


Strays

by SandM1827



Series: Son Shine AUs [5]
Category: Sons of Anarchy, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 91,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandM1827/pseuds/SandM1827
Summary: "We have a habit of taking in strays around here.““Lady, I’m not a puppy you found in a cardboard box on the street.”





	1. anyone who's ever split apart

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from [Sweet Jane by Cowboy Junkies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fa9nN3G2CSg)  
> Gif sets: [Classmates/Fic preview](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184382009876/son-shine-verse-au-classmates), [Charming, California](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184493411451/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-charming-california)
> 
> I'll add character tag stuff as I go.
> 
> *You don't have to read previous fics in the verse to understand this one.  
> ** Set pre-series for Sons of Anarchy, senior year for Teen Wolf.  
> *** No werewolves or supernatural creatures from TW this time around. Everyone is strictly human.  
> **** I started the original verse long before Jeff Davis started handing out Stilinski family history, so none of the stuff about Stilinski's father from the last few season applies. And Stilinski's name is still John, as it has been from the start of this verse, not to be confused with Jax's dad, JT.
> 
> [I swear I will get back to CWS just as soon as I finish this one. Just let me get this one out of my system first.]

The vibration from the big rig moving over the asphalt would loll him to sleep if he let it. Sleep was dangerous in his situation, tucked away in a semi with some burly truck driver that called himself Big Tony, who had picked him up at the Cali-Nevada border. Big Tony had proven himself to be like the half-a-dozen other guys who were more than happy to offer a teenage kid a ride in the same direction they were going, no strings attached.

Once they were out of town, parked on some deserted back road with no sign of civilization for miles, the 'no strings attached' clause would disappear, being replaced by a wolfish grin and a " _If you wanted to be real nice, you could repay my kindness with that pretty mouth or tight little ass."_ Most of the truck drivers were careful to pose it as a question, as if that made asking a kid for a quick fuck or a blow job any more okay. He had learned from experience that refusing the request was the quickest way to lose the ride and earn a black eye, if not worse.

Leaning across the seat to suck a half-limp, sweat soaked dick into his mouth was old hat at this point. He had become accustomed to the firm grip on his neck and the spluttering when some overzealous asshole decided he got off on seeing tears streaming down his face when he choked around a sorry excuse for a cock. He’d even gotten used to the taste of a strangers cum in his mouth, but that was all he would get used to. He wouldn't bend over for any of those douchebags, and he would gladly take a beating and walk the rest of the way to where he was going before he let them take it from him by force.

"Once we drop off the load, what's say you and me make use of that bed back there," Big Tony jerked a thumb toward the twin mattress in cabin of the rig. "You can show me what you got hiding under them jeans."

"That's not gonna happen, man," He hoped the man would accept the no, but Big Tony's hand wandering up his thigh was a good sign that he was going to push the matter. "I've given you all you're gonna get from me."

“I ain’t shelling out for a motel room,” Big Tony grumbled, gripping his leg tighter. “We’ll pull off at a rest stop—“

“We’re not going to fuck,” He smacked the man’s hand away from him. “And I’m not blowing you again.”

“I’ve shown you all the kindness in the world,” Big Tony snarled, face flushing red with anger. “You think one blow job is enough to repay that?”

“If that’s a problem for you, you can let me out right here,” His hand was already on the door handle, had been the whole time he’d been in the truck, just in case he had to get out quick. “A rides not worth a lousy fuck, man.”

“Then get on out of here,” Big Tony stopped the rig right in the middle of the road. “Get on out.”

He was happy to oblige the man, snagging his backpack off the seat and stumbling out of the truck. His feet barely hit the ground before Big Tony hit the accelerator and was off again.

“Fuck,” He shuffled to the sidewalk to avoid oncoming traffic and scanned the area for any landmarks that could give him the slightest clue where he was. “Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair…”

The yellow, red, and white block-lettered sign stood out in the otherwise dull looking town, but he figured that was the point. The place appeared to be open, mechanics and customers milling about, a couple guys in leather kuttes sitting around a picnic table, and even a kid about his age gesturing widely with his hands as he spoke to the men in kuttes. To the outside world, it probably seemed like a strange assortment of people grouped together, but to him it seemed…nice or even oddly homey.

He tried to shake thoughts of home from his mind and was punished for it by a wave of dizziness washing over him. He staggered into the fence surrounding the garage and carefully lowered himself until he was sitting on the sidewalk, all he could do to keep himself from collapsing to the ground with a rough thud.

“Shit…” He wrapped an arm around his middle and pressed his head against the chain-link, willing the ever-present headache and nausea to go away and to take the pangs of hunger and sore knees along with it.

As the world began to fade to black around him, he saw the rush of feet coming his way. He felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment, knowing what a picture he painted on that sidewalk. A too-skinny teenager with a head of dark, greasy hair and skin coated in dirt and fuck knows what else, shirt stained with bodily fluids that weren't his, and scraped knees protruding from ripped jeans, aching from dropping to them at truck stops and gas stations in pursuit of cash for a warm meal or a ride. He wouldn't blame the strangers if they decided to just toss him out with the garbage, it was where he belonged anyway.

* * *

 

In the earlier morning hours, before the mechanics clocked in and customers began arriving, and the lot was lost to revving engines, clanking tools, and nonsensical chatter, TM could almost be mistaken for a peaceful place. On the days Stiles was on shift, he often found himself at the garage earlier than the others, completing tasks in the office Gemma hadn’t finished the previous night.

"When Opie was your age, we couldn't get him out of bed before noon," Piney mentioned as he stepped into the office. "This up at the crack a dawn thing you got going isn't healthy for a teenager."

"Jax had Wendy over last night," Stiles loved his time in Charming, he really did, but Jax's house had become too loud with his new girl there. "If they're not fighting, they're fucking. I don't want to listen to either."

"Fair enough," Piney hummed, pouring himself a cup of coffee out of the carafe on the desk. "That boy is still asleep in the clubhouse. I think you should keep an eye on him today."

"Yeah, he’ll probably be more comfortable with me," Personally, if Stiles woke up in an unfamiliar place surrounded by guys in biker kuttes, he might begin to panic, and he grew up around guys in biker kuttes. "I know Chibs said he couldn’t find any life-threatening injuries on the kid, but you sure we shouldn’t take him to the hospital to have him checked out?”

“See how he is when he wakes up, if he needs to go to the doctor, you can take him to that free clinic off Hill road, they don’t ask questions like hospitals do,” Piney nudged his arm, urging him out of the chair. “Go look after the kid. Let me get to work.”

“All right,” Stiles closed out the file he’d been working on and stood from his seat. “I’ll let you get to your mid-morning nap.”

“Oh, we were able to rouse that kid for a minute not long after you left last night,” Piney said as he settled into the chair. “Gemma tried to get a name out of him, all she could make out was something that sounded like ‘Juice’.”

“Juice?” Stiles tested the name on his tongue. “That’s different.”

“’Cause _Stiles_ is so normal.”

Stiles left the old man to his own devices and exited the office. He crossed the lot to the clubhouse, noting a few cars pulling in through the gate left open. He could do the nice thing and handle the potential customers that had proved themselves incapable of reading the hours of operation clearly listed on the sign or he could leave them to suffer the wrath of Piney. He chose option B, and continued on into the clubhouse.

The kid was right where they'd left him the night before, curled up on the couch, looking small and frail beneath the blankets. If Stiles hadn't seen him snap his eyes shut the moment he'd walked in, he might believe he was still fast asleep.

"I know you're awake," Stiles kept his voice soft, calm, hoping to avoid spooking the other boy. "It's only us kids in here. You don't have to keep pretending if you don't want to."

“Um,” The kid peeled his eyes open slowly, his brown orbs meeting Stiles own. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He offered the other boy an easy smile. “I’m Stiles. You told Gemma last night that your name was Juice or something that sounded like that. That right?”

“Juice works,” The teenager responded, pushing himself up till he was sitting. “What is this place?”

“A clubhouse,” It was probably best if Stiles didn’t go into specifics about that until he got a real feel for the kid. “It’s on the same property as the garage you passed out in front of last night.”

“I remember the garage, but that’s not really what I meant,” Juice murmured, rubbing sleep from the corner of his eyes. “Uh, where am I _exactly_?”

“A clubhouse in Charming, California,” He couldn’t get more exact than that. “Not the kind of place you come to by choice. If you weren’t born here, chances are some shitty circumstance dumped you here.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Juice muttered, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. “Why am I here?”

“And not at a hospital?” Smart question. “You looked like someone on the run from something. A hospital would take one look at you and probably call the cops.”

“So?” Confusion marred the other teenager’s face. “You guys don’t know me. Why would the cops looking into me be a problem for anyone here?”

“If they traced you back to this property, it would bring some unwanted attention. A police presence at the garage is just bad publicity,” Stiles pulled the cover story out of thin air, a pretty good one too, if he did say so himself. “Small town, any customer we lose is just bad for our bottom line.”

“Uh huh,” Juice nodded slowly, as if he didn’t quite buy what Stiles was selling. “Well, thanks, I guess, for not leaving me on the street.”

“We’re not savages,” Okay, that one might not have been completely true, there were a few guys within the club that definitely toed the line there. “So are you?”

“Am I what?”

“On the run from something?” It wasn’t Stiles place to ask, not when they were strangers, but he needed to get a read on the other boy to determine if he was a threat to them or not. “From the cops?”

“No,” Juice shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Stiles took that to mean he probably did something of the illegal nature, but he was unsure if the cops were onto him about it. “What about your family? They looking for you?”

“Probably not.”

“Okay,” That was a little sad, to be honest. “They the reason you’re running?”

“I had a bag with me,” Juice avoided answering the question, pretty much confirming his family was the reason he’d left his home. “Where’s my bag?”

“Right by your feet,” Stiles motioned toward the backpack lying on the floor. “I can’t guarantee no one’s gone through it, but I promise no one stole anything from you.”

“There’s nothing worth stealing,” Juice picked the bag up, holding it close to his chest. “Am I allowed to leave?”

“Of course,” They weren’t holding him hostage. “You got somewhere to be?”

“Maybe.” That was a no.

“You should take a shower before you make any decisions,” Stiles advised him, if only because he could smell him from across the room. “There’s a bathroom down the hall, attached to a dorm room. There’s some clothes in the dresser that might fit you. The cabinet under the sink usually has a new pack of underwear reserved for guests.”

“You get a lot of guests who don’t bring their own underwear?”

“More than you might think,” Mostly members of other charters who didn’t know how to pack appropriately. “You take a shower, I’ll make us some breakfast, and we can put your dirty clothes in the wash while we eat.”

“A place to sleep, a hot shower, food, and clean clothes,” The other boy listed off the things he had been offered or given outright. “What’s this going to cost me?”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing comes for free, man, especially not help,” Juice scowled, questioning the motives behind the assistance he received. “What’s the catch? What’s the _**price**_?”

“You want to earn it, you can help me out in the garage today,” Stiles could work that out with Gemma and Piney. “You know anything about cars or motorcycles?”

“Enough to get by.”

“Good enough,” Stiles could work with ‘enough to get by.’ “Go take your shower, I’ll scrounge us up some breakfast—meals are free around here for those of us under eighteen, that’s an actual rule, don’t worry.”

“Who says I’m under eighteen?”

“Dude, please,” All Stiles had to do was look at him to know they weren’t far apart in age. “Your license says you’re seventeen. It also says your name is Juan Carlos Ortiz, not Juice, but I’ll call you Juice, if you prefer.”

“My license?” Juice groped for the wallet in his pocket. “So when you said someone probably went through my shit, you meant you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles would cop to that. “I’m a snoop. I’m sorry.”

“Were you telling the truth when you said you didn’t take anything?”

“Yes,” Stiles was a lot of things, but a thief wasn’t one of them. “I promise all your stuff is in your bag.”

“Sure,” Juice tightened his grip on the backpack.

“So, what’s the plan here, man?” It’s not that Stiles wasn’t enjoying the conversation, but he did have other things to do. “You sticking around for that shower and meal or are you bailing?”

“I guess I could use a shower and something to eat,” Juice mumbled, standing from the couch. “I’ll help you out in the garage, if you think your boss will be okay with it.”

“They’ll be cool with it,” It was a family business, so Stiles had some pull there. “You got any food allergies I need to know about for breakfast?”

“No, I’ll eat anything.”

“Okay,” Now all Stiles had to do was find something worth eating in the kitchen cupboards. “Showers down the hall to your right.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

Jax had woken up to a mouthful of blonde hair and a naked body pressed against his. A fucking perfect way to start the morning if it hadn't been for the massive hangover. When he finally managed to pull himself out of bed there was a hot coffee in a thermos, a plate of food in the microwave, and bottle of aspirin waiting for him on the kitchen counter. Jax left the food for his lady friend, knocked back a couple of the aspirin, and took the thermos to go as he headed off to work.

TM was preparing to open for the day when Jax pulled into the lot. He spotted his mother and Clay looking over a sheet of paper together, inventory or schedules most likely, and Tig and Bobby unloading special ordered parts for a repair. Jax's baby brother, however, was either a no-show or had parked around back, because both he and his Jeep were nowhere in sight.

“Jackie boy,” Chibs greeted him with a smile, sauntering out of the office, clipboard in hand. “We got the repo run today.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jax clapped Chibs on the back as he dismounted his bike. “You seen Stiles here this morning? He wasn’t at the house when I got up.”

“Piney said he was in the clubhouse with the new kid,” Chibs waved his hand in the general direction. “He still giving you the cold shoulder?”

“He just doesn’t like Wendy,” He was sure his brother would get over it if he just got to know her a little bit. “Piney left my brother alone with some street kid we know nothing about?”

“Relax. A gust of wind could knock that kid over,” Chibs chortled, lighting up a cigarette. “And baby brother can take care of himself.”

“I don’t care how weak that kid looks,” He couldn’t have made it as far as he had without a way to defend himself. “If he tries something on Stiles—“

“The lad can take care of himself,” Chibs repeated. “He knows where the guns are and how to use them.”

“He shouldn’t have to use one in the clubhouse,” It was supposed to be a safe space for all of them. “What’s your take on that street kid anyway?”

“Not much of a conversationalist, but the unconscious part might’ve had something to do with that,” The Scotsman joked. “I don’t know, Jackie. First glance, I’d say he’s been dragged down ten miles of bad road and then some.”

“Think he’ll stick around?”

“Could go either way,” Chibs acknowledged. “Might be a good thing if he does stay. Baby brother could use a friend his own age around here.”

“So long as that friend’s problems don’t follow him here,” The last thing they needed were cops or angry parents banging on their door looking for the runt.

“A teenager doesn’t cross the country on his own unless something’s chasin’ him.”

“Yeah, exactly,” That was what Jax was afraid of. “Need to keep an eye on him while he’s here.”

“Aye.”

* * *

 

The nervous feeling that Juice had woken up didn't wash away as easily as the dirt and grime in the shower. It followed him through the clubhouse, taunting him as he sought out the boy he had been speaking to prior to his bath.

"I'm in here," As if reading his mind, the teenager called out to him from another room. "Glass door to your right, man."

He followed the directions to a small kitchen just off the hallway, finding the other boy seated at a two-person table pushed against the wall. Froot Loops and buttered toast were laid out on the table like a five-star meal at a fancy restaurant, matching ceramic bowls and saucers and everything. It all seemed incredibly out of place in a clubhouse that had mug shots hanging on the walls like decorations.

“So all we had was cereal,” The boy said sheepishly as he poured them each a cup of coffee. “Sorry it’s not something, you know, cooked.”

“Cereal’s good,” Juice joined the kid at the table, hooking his bag over the chair as he sat down. “Thanks.”

“You smell better,” Stiles noted, pushing one of the cups across the table to him. “Did you have a nice shower?”

“Oh yeah,” The hot water cascading over his body stung the bruises and scrapes littering his skin, but soothed his aching muscles and sore bones. “Good water pressure.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never showered back there,” Stiles admitted, giving Juice quick once-over with his eyes. “If I had known you were still here before I came in today, I would have brought you some of my clothes, they’d probably fit you better.”

“These are fine,” They were about three sizes too big, but they were clean, that was refreshing. “What do the initials on the shirt mean? S.A.M.C.R.O. Is it a brand or something? I’ve never heard of it before.”

“It’s sort of a brand, I guess. I told you this was a clubhouse, right?” Stiles asked, gnawing on a piece of toast. “Yeah, it belongs to the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Originals. My brother’s the V.P.”

“V.P., wow,” He somehow managed to pass out in front of and be taken in by a den of outlaws, that was some kind of luck. “So what’s your role in the club?”

“I offer unsolicited advice and much needed sarcasm,” Stiles grinned like the Cheshire cat. “It’s a role I’m very happy with. I have no plans to become an official member.”

“Are you in school?” Juice knew better than to ask too many questions about the club, but he figured if he was going to be working with the other kid all day, he might as well get to know him. “Or do you just work here?”

“I start my senior year in a few weeks. I work here full time during the summer, weekends during the school year,” Stiles replied, sipping his coffee. “What about you? Were you in school before you ran from wherever it is you ran from?”

“I stopped going to school a couple months into my junior year,” He never officially dropped out, just stopped showing up to class. “I was never very good at school.”

“What are you good at?”

“Computers,” Juice understood motherboards and code better than he did most people. “I was building my own before I left.”

“Impressive,” Stiles complimented him. “You’re a brain then, huh?”

“Never been accused of that,” He never tested well in school, so teachers had often written him off as an idiot. “You like school?”

“Uh,” The kid frowned, dropping his gaze to the table. “I like learning.”

“But not school,” Juice wouldn’t pry, it was obviously something the other boy didn’t want to talk about. “How’d you end up working in the garage?”

“Family business. The ‘Teller’ on the sign is my brother’s side of the family,” Stiles tugged at the Teller-Morrow patch sewn onto his work shirt. “How’d you learn enough about cars to get by?”

“My uncle taught me. He owns a garage. I was the only one who had the patience to learn from him,” As a result, Juice had the pleasure of tinkering around under the hoods of all kinds of vehicles growing up. “Your brother teach you?”

“My brother, my uncle, some of the other guys around here,” Stiles motioned to the clubhouse. “Not much else to do to keep a little kid entertained.”

“At least they taught you a skill that would be useful to you,” All his siblings ever taught him was resentment and guilt. “So what can you do for fun in this town?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles scratched the side of his head. “They have parties here a lot, but it’s not really my scene.”

“Well, what do you do when they’re having parties?”

“Play video games or read a book or something,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m not very social these days.”

“Oh,” There was a story there, but it wasn’t Juice’s business. “Is there a night club or something nearby?”

“A night club in Charming?” Stiles scoffed. “No, there are a couple bars, though. If you’re planning to use a fake ID to get into one, I wouldn’t recommend the Buffalo Bar, the local cops frequent it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” It wasn’t a drink he was looking for. “Think you can point me in the direction of one of the bars that doesn’t have a big police presence?”

“I can point out a few places while I show you around town,” Stiles suggested. “We can head out on my lunch break.”

“I don’t really need a tour of the town, I’m not planning to stick around,” He just needed to know where he could get a little pick-me-up to keep his withdrawals at bay. “Just a place to have a good time before I get back on the road.”

“Oh, okay.”

* * *

 

When Stiles was an infant, he and John both suffered from separation anxiety, John had a theory that it had something to do with them only having each other to rely on. When he had decided to loosen the reins and let Stiles spend time in Charming with Jax, John had made a habit of dropping in to check on his son. Nearly eighteen years later, it was still a habit he couldn’t break.

“He’s not here,” Gemma said before he could get a word in edgewise. “He’s at Donna’s, helping with one thing or another.”

“Okay,” Well, his son wasn’t the only person he had come to speak with. “Do you want to tell me why you texted me a picture of a teenager’s drivers license this morning?”

“The kid fainted in front of the garage last night,” Gemma explained, as if that cleared things up. “We brought him inside, let him sleep on the couch. We just wanted to make sure he’s not some little psychopath.”

“I know you like to take in strays that wander in off the street,” It was pretty much how the Sons of Anarchy was created, after all. “But this one is a kid who probably has a family somewhere.”

“One that’s looking for him?”

“There are no missing person’s reports under the name on the license, and he’s not listed as a runaway,” Whoever the kid was, he was on his own. “He does have a record, though.”

“Assault, possession, possession with the intent to sell, identity theft,” Gemma rattled off the boy’s list of offenses. “Unser said as much.”

“If you already had Unser looking into him, why’d you ask me to?” John and Wayne were in the same line of work, him as a county sheriff and Unser as a police chief. “We both have access to the same files.”

“The boy is from New York. You have contacts in New York because of Claudia,” Gemma spit out his deceased wife’s name like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I figured if you found anything questionable, you’d call them for more detail.”

“All I found was the arrest record of a troubled kid,” And the heartbreak of knowing no one was looking for him. “Where is this kid now, Gemma? He still here?”

“He was working with Stiles in the garage, now he’s with Piney in the office,” Gemma nodded toward the small shack attached to the garage. “Stiles thought he might be more comfortable around someone he believes he has a chance in hell at overpowering if he needed to.”

“’Believes’ being the operative word there,” Piney was a spry old man who could knock someone twice his size and twenty-years younger right on their ass. “You let Stiles hang around a kid you know nothing about?”

“Now you sound like Jax,” Gemma groused, shaking her head. “I heard he said the same thing to Chibs earlier.”

“It’s called being sensible, Gemma,” He hadn’t drilled stranger-danger into his son’s head for shits and giggles. “I don’t care that they’re the same age. We don’t know this kid.”

“You’re too overprotective,” Gemma chided him. “You keep trying to shield Stiles from the world, you’re going to turn him into a pussy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing with Jax and Thomas,” It was their jobs as parents to protect their child from anything and everything that would cause them harm. “Stiles is a good judge of character. What did he think of this kid?”

“He spent the morning with him, made him breakfast, worked with him in the garage for a few hours,” Gemma offered him a play-by-play of their son’s interaction with the other boy. “Not something he would do with just anyone who wandered in off the street.”

“He sees something good in him,” That was almost enough to put John at ease, almost. “Doesn’t change the fact that this kid is still a minor. We should contact his parents or social services.”

“He’s seventeen, Johnny, that’s practically an adult,” Gemma tutted. “It was the same age you were when you left home.”

“I had been recently orphaned,” John had already been on his own when he left Charming. “This kid’s parents are alive from what I read in his file.”

“We don’t know that his parents aren’t the reason he’s running,” Gemma retorted. “I left home as a teenager because of my mother.”

“We don’t know that his parents _are_ the reason,” However, with no missing persons report, things were leaning that way. “There is a history of domestic violence noted in his file, multiple calls about the father, but no charges were officially filed.”

“You see,” Gemma took that as a win in her corner. “You going to send him back to an abusive home?”

“He’s a child, Gemma,” Legally speaking, anyway. “A troubled child. He needs a home, not a clubhouse.”

“You’re jumping the gun a bit,” Gemma noted. “We don’t even know if he plans to stay, Johnny.”

“And if he does?” As strays were prone to do once they were caught in Gemma’s web. “Where’s he going to live? I don’t think I need to tell you how it will look to have a teenage boy take up permanent residence inside a clubhouse full of outlaws.”

“If he decides to stay, we will figure it out.”

“Uh huh.”

* * *

 

Donna Winston had been the only woman to love Stiles since they day he had come into the world. Like Jax and Opie, she had only been an adolescent at the time, Opie’s girlfriend, but she had taken Stiles on as her little brother as easily as they had. She had given him the love and nurturing Gemma had refused to when he needed it the most.

Since Opie had been locked up, Stiles had made a point look after her and the children the same way she had looked after him. He helped the kids with their homework, did the yard work, offered her a shoulder to cry on if she needed it.

“Thank you for mowing the lawn,” Donna expressed her gratitude best through food, setting a sandwich in front of him. “But I could’ve done it myself.”

“You do enough by yourself,” He would pitch in where he could as long as she was willing to let him. “Been up to see Opie lately?”

“Saw him last week,” Donna twisted the wedding ring around her finger. “He’s the same as he’s been the last few years. Hanging in there.”

“At least he’s got protection inside,” Stiles didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if he was in there alone. “Did you take the kids with you?”

“No, he doesn’t want them to see him in there. He doesn’t want them to see him caged up as a criminal, but he…,” Donna paused, trying to find the words. “He’s not the one who has to tell them Daddy doesn’t want to see them.”

“He’s not the one who has to break their hearts,” Opie was unintentionally turning his wife into the bad guy in the eyes of their children. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“You do more than enough around here,” Donna reached across the table to pat his hand. “I’m grateful for it.”

“Just doing my part,” Stiles had taken it upon himself to do what the club refused to even though they were the reason Opie was in jail to begin with. “Is Kenny still mad at me for not helping out with his baseball team this summer?”

“He understands it’s not because you don’t want to do it,” Donna reassured him. “He’s young, but I think he can see you weren’t up for it.”

“I really wanted to do it,” It killed him to break the promise to his nephew. “Next summer….”

“If you come home from college, sure,” She nodded, smiling softly. “If you don’t plan to go backpacking somewhere exotic.”

“You gotta be rich to do stuff like that,” As it was, he would be working on top of taking classes, just like a lot of other students. “Any chance I had of a scholarship definitely went out the window after last semester.”

“You don’t know that yet,” Donna argued. “Have you heard anything back from the schools you applied to?”

“Not yet,” He wasn’t exactly waiting with bated breath for rejection letters. “I really fucked myself, didn’t I?”

“You were in a really bad place, Stiles. You needed a rest,” Donna let him off the hook. “Might not be a bad idea to take another one after graduation.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked. “Defer a year before going to college?”

“Take a mental health year or something,” Donna proposed. “Take some time to breathe.”

“Maybe,” It was a good idea, but still something he needed to think about. “I gotta graduate first.”

“You will,” She remarked confidently. “You sure you’re ready to go back to school? I’m sure your dad would let you keep doing the home-school thing.”

“I need to go back,” Whether he was ready or not was irrelevant. “If I can’t handle high school, how the hell am I ever supposed to go to college?”

“I just don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll be okay,” In the end, he always was. “I know I scared you guys. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“I appreciate that,” Donna tucked loose stand of hair behind her ear and changed the subject. “So, anything new going on?”

“Not really,” Stiles life was all about work until school started back up. “Oh, well, a kid showed up last night. He sort of collapsed on the sidewalk.”

“Is he okay?”

“He didn’t need a doctor or anything,” At least he said he didn’t and Chibs confirmed that. “He seems lost, not quite sure where’s he’s going, but knows he has to get there.”

“Something we can all relate to, I think,” Donna mused, glancing down at the table. “Gemma talk him into staying yet?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Although, she had more than enough time to since Stiles had left the garage. “He seemed pretty set on leaving.”

“We all do until we don’t.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

* * *

 

If Gemma could pinpoint one thing that all her “strays” had in common, it was that they were familiar to her in one way or another. She recognized something in them that she had always seen in herself. The new boy was no different from the others she had brought into the fold.

There was darkness in him, a despair that seemed to linger overhead like a raincloud on a stormy day. He had seen violence and death up close and personal, and had probably participated in a few acts of that nature himself. Still, she spied a sliver of light hiding in his eyes behind the trauma and the sleepless nights. He was damaged, absolutely, but he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t be molded into something new.

“Going somewhere, baby?” She questioned, finding him sifting through his backpack in the dorm room. “You don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“I think I’ve stayed long enough,” He said, zipping up the bag. “I put the clothes I burrowed in the laundry basket in the dorm room.”

“You could’ve kept them,” Her gaze caught on the rips and tears on the clothes he’d changed into, the same ones he had shown up in. “You look like you can use them.”

“I’m fine with what I’ve got, thanks.” He hitched his backpack over his shoulder, flinching as it made contact with one of the bruises hidden beneath his shirt.

“It’s not easy is it?” She asked, moving to sit on the bed. “Trying to make it on your own after running away from home.”

“I get by.”

“Yeah, I did too,” She had lied, cheated, stolen, done whatever she needed to survive. “I was about your age when I left home. My parents were moving up north and there was no way I was going anywhere with my mother. She was a very angry woman.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“And your mother?” Gemma could use his mommy issues to her advantage if there were any. “What kind of woman is she?”

“A good one,” The teenager claimed, squaring his shoulders as if he was prepping for a fight to defend her honor. “A really good one.”

“So it was your father then,” That lined up with what John had read in the kid’s file. “He the reason you left Queens?”

“Queens…” Juice narrowed his eyes. “I guess Stiles isn’t the only one who went through my wallet.”

“Inquisitiveness is genetic,” And Stiles was hit with a double dose, once from her, once from his daddy. “That boy got it in spades.”

“Inquisitive is one way to put it,” Juice muttered, rolling his eyes. “Genetic? You and Stiles….”

“He’s my son,” Not her pride and joy, so to speak, but her offspring nonetheless. “He didn’t tell you?”

“We only met this morning.” Juice reminded her. “It’s not like either of us were going to trade family histories with a stranger.”

“He and I have a tempestuous relationship,” Perhaps, one day, they could learn to get along, but she couldn’t see that happening anytime soon. “He prefers his father to me.”

“Mrs. Teller-Morrow, I don’t want to be rude or anything,” The teenager adopted a sugary-sweet lit to his tone. “But why are you sharing all this with me? You don’t know me.”

“Everyone in this place has a tragic back story that ends with them running away from home looking for greener pastures,” In Gemma’s experience, there was never a set destination, just somewhere far away from where they were running from. “The trick to finding that greener pasture is knowing when to stop running.”

“That was very ‘after-school-special’,” Juice snorted derisively. “Next you’re going to tell me to ‘just say no’ when my peers pressure me into using drugs and alcohol.”

“Depends on the drug and how much you’re using,” Gemma was perfectly fine with a little recreational use, so long as it didn’t get out of hand. “As Stiles father was so keen to remind me earlier, we have a habit of taking in strays around here.“

“Lady, I’m not a puppy you found in a cardboard box on the street.”

“No, you’re a teenage boy going to his knees for a ride to nowhere fast. Now, you can keep using your mouth to pay your way from one place to the next until some fat fucker sticks you like a pig,” If the surrogate mother act wasn’t going to work, Gemma would just have to use the harsh truth to get the kid to see what was right in front of him. “Then robs you for whatever trinkets you’ve got in that knapsack and leaves you to bleed out on the side of the road-- and that’s if he doesn’t decide to take that pert little ass of yours for a ride first. Or, you can stick around, work in the garage, learn a vocation, and maybe even make a few friends.”

“I appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown me, Mrs. Teller-Morrow,” Juice said through gritted teeth. “But I’m going to leave now.”

“The offer stands if you change your mind,” Gemma had a feeling he might, they almost always did. “We’ve always got room for one more not-so lost cause.”

* * *

 

Jax had been hesitant about having a new little brother so soon after losing Thomas, especially one who would grow up away from him. When John Stilinski had offered him a place in Stiles life, Jax had jumped at it despite his nerves. He had done his best to be there for his baby brother whenever and however he needed him to be, keeping him close despite the physical distance that was sometimes between them.

He wasn't naive enough to think they told each other everything, but they shared more than most brothers, he was sure of that. Lately, however, sometime in the last few months, hell, maybe the last few years, something had changed. Stiles had begun to pull away, had started keeping secrets that Jax couldn't pry loose with a heavy-duty pair of pliers.

Now when Jax was a child and Gemma thought he was hiding things from her, she would make him his favorite dinner. She'd put him at ease over the shared meal and slowly but surely manage to get him to open up before he even knew what he was doing. Jax hoped the same play would work with Stiles.

Jax couldn't cook more than mac & cheese or a hamburger on a good day, so he picked up a couple pizzas and sodas on the way home. He used the smell of cheese, tomato sauce, and pepperoni to lure his brother out of his bedroom to the couch in the living room and dropped one of the boxes on his lap.

“Heard you went to see Donna earlier,” Jax mentioned casually, starting with a safe topic of conversation rather than the one he actually wanted to have, just as his mother would. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s doing her best,” Stiles popped open the lid to his box of pizza, taking a long whiff of that magnificent aroma. “Saw a bunch of past-due notices in with her mail.”

“You went through her mail,” Jax wasn’t surprised, his brother was as nosy as they came. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Donna’s a tough chick.”

“She’s trying to raise two kids and pay a mortgage on a single income,” Stiles grumbled, picking at the toppings on his pizza. “Her strength isn’t going to replace the money from Opie’s paycheck while he’s away.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” It’s not like Jax was living the high life while his best friend’s wife was struggling. “I don’t have money to spare.”

“And what about SAMCRO, huh?” Stiles asked, raising a brow. “They’re the reason he’s in jail.”

“Club money is club money,” Those were allocated funds already spent; anything left over was stashed away for an emergency. “We can’t just give it away when someone can’t pay the bills.”

“All the noise you guys make about being a family, it’s a great way to draw people into your bullshit,” Stiles sneered, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Except when that bullshit lands one of them in prison, their actual family is the one that suffers for it and you guys don’t lift a goddamn finger to help them.”

“I know seeing Donna and the kids struggle is hard,” It was hard on Jax too, especially when there was no way to help them. “But she knew what she signed up for when she married Opie.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles muttered scornfully. “I guess that makes it all okay then.”

“Can we change the subject, please?” Jax wasn’t in the mood to fight with his brother over something neither of them could change. “What’s going on with you, huh? Why don’t we talk about that?”

“I’ve been here every day this summer, Jax, with _you_ ,” Stiles brushed off his concern, face twisted in annoyance. “If there was something going on, you would know about it.”

“It’s been going on since before you came down for the summer,” He had tried to be patient, to let his brother come to him when he felt he was ready, but he was growing impatient. “I’m worried about you, kid.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Jackson, I’m a big boy,” Stiles closed the lid and dropped the box onto the coffee table without taking a single bite of pizza. “If you want to talk about something, we can talk about your new bed Barbie.”

“I know, you don’t like Wendy,” Jax had witnessed his brother’s polite yet dismissive attitude toward her. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“I like Wendy fine,” Stiles claimed, a lie if Jax had ever heard one. “I just don’t like her with you. She’s not good for you.”

“She’s just a drinking buddy,” Jax had no plans to take it any further than that. “We’re having fun.”

“A little too much fun from what I hear _every_ night,” Stiles glowered at him. “Are you using protection during this fun?”

“Yes, _Dad_.”

“Don’t take the tone with me,” Stiles scolded him like a child. “The last thing you need is to knock this chick up.”

“I’m not going to knock her up,” He knew how to use a condom. “What would it matter if I did? You said you liked her.”

“She’s a cool chick, when she’s sober,” Stiles gave the woman a small amount of credit. “The problem is, neither of you are sober when you’re around each other.”

“You think I have a drinking problem?” That was the most preposterous thing Jax had ever heard. “Seriously?”

“Not yet,” Stiles huffed. “But all you and Wendy seem to do together is drink and fuck.”

“This thing with me and Wendy will run its course before I become an alcoholic or knock her up,” It was just a fling, nothing more than that. “The real question is, will it run its course before you finally tell me whatever the fuck is really going on with you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Are you still on that? I told you I was fine.”

“We both know that’s bullshit,” Jax knew his brother better than anyone, could see that he was hiding something. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what to protect you from.”

“There’s no monster lurking around the corner or under the bed, Jackson,” Stiles pulled his knees up to his chest on the sofa. “Nothing to fight.”

“Piney and Donna have been treatin’ you like glass,” That alone was enough to set off alarm bells in Jax’s head. “Even Gemma has been delicate with you. So obviously you told them something.”

“I wouldn’t tell Gemma a damn thing,” Stiles bristled at the idea. “If she’s being delicate, it’s because she wants something and she thinks being nice to me will get it.”

“And Piney and Donna?”

“You haven’t been quiet about how off I seem to you lately,” Stiles said irritably. “Maybe they’re reacting to that. You keep acting like I’m a broken toy, so that’s how they’re treating me.”

“Nobody thinks you’re broken,” Jax might have referred to him as fragile if he didn’t think it might provoke Stiles into an act of violence. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jax was tired of being fed that garbage. “Come on, kid. I just want to help.”

“I’ve been helped, Jackson,” Stiles mumbled dejectedly, wrapping his arms around himself. “I gotta do the rest on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Juice wasn’t quite sure how long it’d been since he had left home, he’d quit counting the days when he realized it didn’t matter anymore. The bus he started out on took him as far as Philadelphia, the money he’d been left with at the time was only enough to buy him a cold sandwich and a bottled water. He’d hitchhiked the rest of the way, making his way across the country without a final destination in mind.

The destination was irrelevant, so were food and water for as long as his body could stand it. The only things that he needed were his fix and a ride in the opposite direction of where he was coming from. Luckily, everything he needed from food to his drugs and a ride could all be found in the same place, a truck stop.

He would have preferred to buy his fix at a club or one of the bars Stiles directed him to, somewhere crowded, less likely for him to get rolled. However, that Gemma woman’s cautionary monologue had hit a little too close to home and the only thing he wanted to do was get as far away from that town as he possibly could. The only way to get out quick was to get everything he needed in once place.

He had enough money stuffed in his shoe from a previous exchange to buy his meds from a dealer hanging around the bathrooms. A five-finger discount scored him a candy bar and a bottle of tea for later. His mouth would have guaranteed him a ride out of that shit town if it weren't for Gemma's words replaying in his head.

He had dropped to his knees between a pair of big rigs and sucked down a pot-bellied driver as he had more times than he could count since he'd left Queens. When he'd pulled off to catch his breath, he caught a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster hidden beneath the strangers jacket. Visions of being killed while he sat on his haunches with the taste of cum in his mouth and drool on his chin flashed through his mind, sending spikes of fear up his spine.

Before he knew it, he was pushing the man away, snatching his backpack off the ground, and making a break for it. He didn't look back, he didn't slow down, he just ran as fast and far as he could, trying to run that image right out of his brain. He kept running from farther and farther until his lungs need for oxygen forced him to stop. It was only when he was crouched in the middle of the road, elbows on his knees, struggling to breathe that he realized he was back where he started that morning.

"Teller-Morrow Automotive Garage..."

A sign, bad luck, his unconscious mind, something had brought him back there for whatever reason. He settled on a combination of pisspoor luck and his traitorous unconscious when he saw the den mother standing outside the clubhouse, as if she’d been waiting for him the whole time.

“I thought you might be back,” Gemma smirked, taking a puff off her cigarette. “I changed the sheets in the dorm room for you.”

“Thanks,” He still wasn’t sure he would stick around very long, but he could use the warm bed for the night. “I don’t want any charity. I’ll work off the rent for the room and food however you need me to.”

“We can always use an extra hand in the garage,” She pushed open the door to the clubhouse. “You look tired. You should get some sleep. You remember where the room is?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t ever call me ma’am again. It’s Gemma,” The woman said firmly. “Go on in and get some sleep. I hope the noise doesn’t keep you awake.”

The loud thrum of music and haze of smoke hit Juice the moment he stepped into the clubhouse. Men in kuttes were scattered around the bar and sofa, playing pool, doing shots, and chatting each other up while scantily clad women sat on their laps and hung off their arms. Juice ducked his head to avoid the curious gazes, tried to make himself invisible as he crossed the room and moved down the hall into the dorm room, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed his pack onto a nearby chair and stumbled to the bed. He took the needle from his pocket and peeled off his hoodie, feeling the cool air hit his clammy skin. The symptoms of withdrawal had begun to set in earlier in the day, and Juice cursed himself for not slinking off to a dark corner to inject the much-needed fix as soon as he’d made the buy.

The veins on his arms were shot to hell from years of abuse, but that didn’t stop him from searching for one he could still use. He was so focused on the feeling of euphoria he would get once the drug hit his blood stream that he didn’t pay a damn bit of attention to his surroundings, if he had, maybe he would have heard the footsteps approaching the door long before it swung open.

"Hey Gemma wanted to know if you'd eaten--" Chibs started, faltering when he saw the track marks littering Juice’s arms. "I guess food ain’t what you're craving."

"Can you go, please?" Juice's fingers trembled around the needle. "I need to--"

"I know what you need, lad," Chibs crossed his arms over his chest. "A trip to SAMCRO rehab."


	2. clinging to the light of day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from: Get Up by Shinedown  
> Gif sets: [Training](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184615927911/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-training-a-cookie), [Resilient](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184684729036/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-resilient-what-those), [Act of Violence](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184733364386/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-act-of-violence)

Juice had a long, sordid history with a variety of illegal substances, resulting in more than a few trips to detox. Rehab facilities, hospital wards, his family home, even a church rectory, he’d been forced to cleanse his body of narcotics in a number of places over the years. Going cold turkey at a cabin in the woods was a new one for him.

"Chibs said you should be through the worst of it now," Gemma mentioned, handing him a cup of tea. "You can finish up at the clubhouse, if you like."

"I'm okay here," He curled his fingers around the warm mug. "I understand if you want to get rid of me, though. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass.”

The first couple days were the worst, the withdrawal had hit him like a truck. He had yelled and screamed, cursed the people who had brought him to that cabin. He'd made a run for it more than once, but someone always tracked him down and dragged him back. They put him in the shower when his fever got too high, wrapped him in a blanket when the chills wracked his body, and made sure he stayed hydrated. It reminded him of care his own family had shown him when they had tried to clean him up.

“We knew what we were getting into when we brought you up here,” Gemma acknowledged, sitting beside him on the sofa. “Not your first time going through a rough detox, huh?”

“Nope,” It was always rough, worse if done outside of facility without trained staff and medical personnel. “You been through it?”

“Personally? No,” Gemma shook her head. “I’ve seen it enough times, though. Some of the guys in the club have had drug problems.”

“So is this like a pattern you follow or something?” Juice asked, sipping from the mug. “Some junkie kid drops into your lap and you decide to play the fixer?”

“More or less,” Gemma cupped his chin in her hands. “Maybe I don’t like to see history repeated in younger generations.”

“Thought you said you weren’t a user?”

“It’s got nothing to do with the drugs, baby,” She caressed his cheek with her thumb. “I told you before, everyone around us ran from something and landed here.”

“Stiles said you’re either born here or end up here by circumstance,” Juice recalled his prior conversation with the other teenager. “You ended up here?”

“I was born here,” Gemma dropped her hand away from his face. “I ran away when my parents tried to move me to a suburban nightmare up in Oregon. I was gone awhile, met Jax’s father, brought him and the club back with me.”

“You came home,” Juice wondered what that was like, to return to the place you had run from. “I guess that saying ‘ _you can’t go home again’_ is a myth.”

“You can go home or you can make a new one,” Gemma said, more to herself than him. “Or you can do both.”

“Hmm…”

“What do you want to do?” Gemma asked, adjusting the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “You want to make a new home? Do you want to go home?”

“I don’t have a home to go back to,” He had essentially been exiled, there was no coming back from that. “But I wasn’t really looking to make a new one.”

“You were going to stay on the move, stay on the road so you could keep putting distance between you and whatever you were running from,” Gemma met his eyes. “I’ve got you figured out, you know.”

“I’m not that hard of a read,” Juice had never learned how to hide his emotions, had a bad habit of wearing them on his sleeve. “But I’ll play along…”

“You get high to forget something you did or something that was done to you,” Gemma stated as if it was a fact she already knew was true. “You are perfectly content being a useless junkie. You only get clean because someone else wants you to.”

“Very insightful,” It was nothing Juice hadn’t heard from a drug counselor or his family priest. “What else you got?”

“You ran away because you were tired of your family or other adults in your life forcing you to get clean,” Gemma continued, sounding completely confident in her theory. “You wanted to live life your way and you couldn’t do that where you were.”

“Wow,” His reasons for leaving Queens weren’t entirely his own, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “I guess you do have me all figured out.”

“No, I don’t,” She admitted, pursing her lips. “There’s one thing I haven’t figured out. What changed your mind about leaving town that night? Why’d you come back to the clubhouse?”

“You got into my head,” He confessed, knowing what kind of power he was handing her. “You put this image in my head of what could happen if I stayed on the road and I…I wasn’t ready to go yet.”

“Your life’s not as over as you thought it was when you left home,” Gemma smiled approvingly. “A glimmer of hope.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of woman who believes in something like hope.”

“I don’t, but I think you do.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

 

Jax wasn't adverse to loud noises in his house, he just preferred it when they were shouts of pleasure coming from the woman who happened to be sharing his bed. Bloodcurdling screams tearing through his house, ripping him from his otherwise peaceful sleep were the last sounds he ever wanted to hear in his home.

"What the fuck?" He shot out of bed, knocking his bedmate off him, trying to pinpoint the source of the yelling. “Stiles.”

He had enough forethought to yank on a pair of sweats as he stumbled from his room and rushed down the hall to his brother’s. Stiles appeared to be awake, sitting up in bed, sweat coating his skin and soaked through his pajamas, tears streaming down his face, breath coming in short pants.

“Hey kiddo,” Jax sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around his little brother and holding him close. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Stiles sobbed, burying his face in the crook of Jax’s neck, suddenly two years old again.

"I've got you, kid," Jax tightened his hold, rocking his brother just as he had when he was a toddler. "What happened, buddy, huh? What was it?"

Stiles always had difficulty sleeping, even as a small child. He was prone to night terrors and sleepwalking. Jax had to install special locks on the doors and windows so he wouldn't wander out at night during an episode.

"Talk to me," Jax urged his brother to speak up. "What happened?"

"I-I need..." Stiles whimpered, voice quivering. "I n-need out."

"Out?" Jax murmured soothingly, stroking the boy’s hair. “Out of where?”

"Out," Stiles pushed against Jax chest, trying to free himself from his hold. "L-Let me go."

"I've got you. Relax," Jax kept his grip firm, too worried about his brother’s state of mind to do anything but keep him close. "Talk to me."

"Let me go!" Stiles shouted, panic making him tremble "Let go!"

"Stiles--"

"Let me go, please," Stiles breath hitched, his yells turning to begs. "Please, let me go. Please."

"Okay, okay," Against his better judgment Jax released his brother. "You're okay."

Stiles climbed over Jax and off the bed, tripping over his own feet as he bolted from the room. Jax followed him down the hall, only to have the bathroom door slam in his face with his brother on the other side of it.

"Stiles," Jax twisted the knob, finding it locked. "Stiles, open the door."

"I'm fine," Stiles hiccupped from the other side. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"I don't care about that," Fuck, being rudely woken up was the last thing on his mind. "I just want to know what's wrong, Stiles."

"Nothing's wrong," Stiles sniveled. "Just a nightmare."

"That's bull," Jax had witnessed plenty of his nightmares, this was something else. "You’ve never tried to play it tough by running off when it was just a bad dream. Tell me what happened. Please."

"I'm taking a shower," Stiles said before the sound of running water drowned out his voice.

"Damn it!" Jax slammed his palm against the door, frustration flooding through him. “Fuck!”

“Jax?” Wendy stepped out of his room, pulling his SAMCRO hoodie over her naked body. “What’s going on?”

“That kid is fucking losing it,” Jax hit the door a second time. “He won’t talk to me.”

“You’re a grown up, he’s a teenager,” Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. “You remember being a teenager, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” The only person Jax felt comfortable opening up to at that age had been his best friend. “But it’s not the same thing. I’m his brother, not his father.”

“Maybe that’s who you should be talking to, his dad,” Wendy suggested. “He trusts him, right?”

“Yeah,” Jax had always admired how close John and Stiles were. “Stiles trusts him more than anyone.”

“Then maybe Stiles shared something with him that he’s scared to share with you.”

“He shouldn’t be afraid to tell me anything,” Jax shared almost everything with his brother, that street should have gone both ways. “We’re not supposed to have secrets.”

“All the more reason for you to talk to his dad,” Wendy said as the sound of a phone ringing from another room floated through the hall. “That’s not mine.”

“Mine neither,” Jax’s phone was on silent and stuffed in his pants pocket on his bedroom floor. “It must be his.”

Jax made his way back into Stiles room, finding his phone charging on the desk. There was a single notification lighting up the screen, a text message from Piney. Jax didn’t even known Piney knew how to text.

“’ _Go up to the cabin and check on the boy. He dealt with Gemma all morning.’_ ” Jax read off the phone screen, typing out a simple ‘ _K_ ’ in response and pressing send. “Yeah, he’ll get right on that Piney, if he ever comes out of the goddamn bathroom.”

* * *

 

There was a time in his life when John was certain Charming would be the place he not only grew up in, but where he would raise his own family, and they would raise theirs. By the time he graduated high school, his views had changed. He had left home with a dufflebag slung over his shoulder and grief in his heart. He swore he would never go back.

He only returned to Charming after leaving the military. He had wanted to give his father the proper goodbye he hadn't managed at the funeral, and that was supposed to be it. Of course a chance run-in with Gemma at the local bar while he was drowning his sorrows had led to Stiles birth, once again tying him to the place that had built him up and knocked him down throughout his childhood.

Still, John tried to distance himself from his hometown. He never visited old friends or attended a high school reunion. He would drop Stiles off and pick him up at TM or Jax's house, but that was it, he would go no further into that town. There were just too many bad memories lurking around every corner for him to ever be truly comfortable there anymore, even sitting at the picnic table outside the garage with Gemma and Piney made him antsy.

"I wanted to talk to you both about the new kid, Juan Carlos," John started, preferring to get that conversation out of the way, so he could go home to Beacon Hills. "As a father and a sheriff, I don't feel entirely comfortable letting him stay here, especially without any idea of how or why he left home."

"He's got some awful shit in his rearview," Gemma said curtly. "That much I know."

"That's not hard to figure out," Piney muttered, adjusting the tubes in his nostrils. "But he hasn't said anything outright."

"Neither has anyone else who has ever come through here," Gemma pointed out. "But we're all aware that we've got terrible shit in our pasts."

"Everyone else who has come through here has been an adult," In John's mind, that was an important distinction. "This is a child, a troubled child. He needs structure."

"We can give him structure. He'll have plenty of male role models around to teach him to be a man. He can work in the garage, learn useful skills. He could even have a place in the club when he's old enough," Naturally, Gemma was all for leaving a vulnerable child in the care of a bunch of outlaws. "What's more structured than that?"

"I was thinking school," John didn't want to damn the kid to a life as a grease monkey and SAMCRO hanger-on just yet. "Maybe counseling for his drug abuse."

"Twelve step freaks are not going to help this boy," Gemma scowled. "He's a street kid, not one of those wealthy brats in Beacon Hills whose parents want to throw anti-depressants and shrinks at."

"I see a therapist. Stiles see's a therapist, he's on medication." Sure, there were people who preferred to keep their children and family members doped up so they didn’t have to deal with them, but there were also those who honestly needed more help than a friendly confidant could provide. "There's nothing shameful about that."

"No one said there was," Piney interjected, shooting Gemma a glare. "It's just not for everyone."

"I'm not suggesting we put this kid in intensive therapy, force him to seek psychological care," They were not in the position to make decisions about the child’s mental health for him. "But the occasional NA meeting when he gets the urge to use could be beneficial to him."

"You're not wrong there," Piney agreed with John, much to his surprise. "I don't see the harm in at least bringing it up to the kid."

"You both are acting like he actually cares about what we have to say," Gemma grumbled. "We are not that kid's parents."

"No, we're not," That was part of the problem. "Would you like me to call them and get their permission? It might give them peace of mind to know that he's safe."

"If they wanted to know where he was, if he was safe, they would have filed a missing person's report," Gemma remarked scornfully. "The kid will be eighteen in November, why don't--"

"Just because he landed on your door step, doesn't mean he has to become an outlaw," John figured if the kid planned on sticking around, the least they could do was show him there was more to life than what was right in front of him. "The best thing we can do for him is give him a chance at a better life. We can give him the tools he needs to stay clean. We can give him the options for his future."

"He needs choices," Piney concurred. "We're the adults here, right? We've got to make sure he has those choices so he can make the best decision for himself."

“That kid doesn’t belong to us, but so long as he’s here, he is our responsibility,” As parents or de facto guardians, they were supposed to provide the tools necessary for their children to succeed. "We need to give him choices he might not have had back home, the choices we never had when we were kids."

"Technically, he's our responsibility," Gemma gestured between herself and Piney. "You don't live here, Johnny."

"You brought me into this the minute you had me pull that kid's record," John had skin in the game now. "So, he is _**our**_ responsibility while he's here."

"We can't do anything about the kid while he's hiding away at the cabin," Piney acknowledged. "I sent Stiles up there to see if he can convince him to come back, if he does, we can talk to him then."

* * *

 

The remnants of his nightmare followed Stiles up to the cabin, stalking his mind like the boogeyman about to jump out of the backseat and grab him. He cursed himself for letting it overpower him, for losing it in front of his brother, for weakening him to the point of exhaustion. A short-temper and a bad attitude usually accompanied the bone-deep weariness, but Stiles tried his best to stamp that down and put on a brave face as he made his way into the cabin.

"Get out of here," Stiles ordered the nameless kutte-wearing twenty-something sitting by the door. "Now."

"Yeah, okay." The dude was on his feet in an instant, skedaddling out of the house, no questions asked.

"Wow," Juice whistled. "Being the VP's little brother has its perks, huh?"

"I say _jump_ , they say _how high_ ," Stiles smirked, slipping his keys into his pocket. "That guy's just a prospect. Doing as he's told is his default mode until he gets his top rockers, _ **if**_ he gets them."

"So you don't have the others on lock?"

"No, I do," There might have a been a few stragglers who refused to bend to his will, but he'd get them eventually. "It was just more of a challenge to get them to fall in line than it is for a prospect."

"Well, now I'm interested," Juice flicked off the TV he'd been watching, giving Stiles his full attention. "How did you manage to wrap a bunch of bikers around your finger?"

"Dog training manual," Stiles had found it lying around the clubhouse one day, having no idea at the time how it would change his life. "And years of conditioning."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," It was easier than it probably should have been. "A cookie when they're good, a spritz of water to the face when they're bad, it works wonders."

"I think it's amazing you're still alive," Juice snorted, wonderment dancing in his eyes. "But, again, I guess being the baby brother of one of the shot callers has its perks."

"That and I was a little kid when I started this little psychological experiment," Stiles had gotten away with a lot as a child where the club was concerned. "They thought it was just a quirk I would grow out of or something."

"I think my oldest brother would have thrown me down a flight of stairs if I'd ever tried something like that on him," Juice mentioned, shaking his head. "So would my older sisters, come to think of it."

"You got a lot of brothers and sisters?"

"Two older brothers, two older sisters, one younger brother," Juice counted them off on his fingers. "Ray, Marisol, Angelo, Marianna, and Felix. I’m number five, stuck between Marianna and Felix.”

"Damn," Stiles could relate, he had Jax plus the club to contend with. "I guess you didn't get along?"

"Not with Ray," Juice brought his legs up to his chest. "He always thought I was too much. Too wild, too irresponsible, too different."

"Are you?"

"He was a college boy, married his high school sweetheart, and now he teaches rich kids at some prep school in Manhattan," Juice rolled his eyes, not at all impressed by his brother’s achievements. "I'm a high school dropout, my first love was weed, and the only serious relationships have been with cocaine and heroin. So, yeah, I guess you could say my brother was right."

"It's good that you're so upfront about it," The brusque honesty was refreshing. "Most people try to distance themselves from their shit."

"Yeah, well, I stopped being ashamed of it a long time ago," Juice shrugged. "You get the illusion that the high lasts longer if you're not filled with guilt before or after you use."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Aside from a little marijuana, the only drugs Stiles ever did were the ones prescribed to him by a medical professional. "Does that mean you're going to go score as soon as you get out of here?"

"I don't know," Juice gnawed on his bottom lip. "This isn't the first time I've been through detox. It didn't bring on some 'come to Jesus' moment or whatever."

"Never thought it did," Stiles didn't expect him to sober up and suddenly see the light. "This is going to sound a little head-shrinky, but do you think you get high for the fun or because dealing with life sober is was just too hard?"

"You've spent a lot of time in therapy, huh?"

"Yes, I have," It had been a regular part of Stiles life since he was eight years old. "Nice attempt at deflection, but it's not necessary. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"It started out as a lot of fun," Juice admitted, folding his arms to hide the healed over track marks. "But shit happens, right? Things change."

"Life becomes too much," Stiles understood that, although he wished he didn’t. "No offense, but shooting junk into your veins is a really shitty coping mechanism."

"I'm aware," Juice said, digging his nails into his skin. "You got another one for me?"

"Do what the majority of the population does, work yourself into exhaustion every day," It was probably the #1 coping mechanism in the world. "The trick is to keep yourself so busy that you don’t have time to think about all the bullshit, and then at the end of the night, you’re too tired to stay up and reflect on all the horrible bullshit. You just pass out as soon as your head hits the pillow.”

"'Cause that's healthy."

"You could die of a drug overdose in some shooting gallery surrounded by strangers at twenty-five," Not the option Stiles would choose, but hey, to each his own. "Or keel over on the floor of your place of business of a stress-induced heart attack at fifty-two."

"Neither of those options sound appealing," Juice huffed. "Is there an option where I don't die painfully or young?"

"Clean, healthy, 'my body is a temple' kind of living," That was the kind of living Stiles tried to enforce on his father, but did not abide by himself. "But for that you gotta give up a lot more fun stuff than drugs."

"Yeah," Juice nodded. "So, uh, what brings you up here?"

"Piney asked me to look in on you," It was the first time Stiles had been allowed to make the trip since the club had taken the other teenager up to the cabin. "Heard you had to deal with Gem bright and early."

"Yeah," Juice sighed. "Your mom's a lot to deal with before my first cup of coffee."

"My mom?" Stiles blanched. "Who told you she was my mom?"

"She did," Juice raised a brow. "She lying?"

"Usually," Stiles wouldn't recommend taking anything Gemma said at face value. "It's not...completely false."

"Okay?"

"Gemma is responsible for half of my DNA," That was Stiles cross to bear. "But I didn't have a mother until I was three, and she sure as hell wasn't Gemma."

"I don’t see Gemma doing the surrogacy thing," Juice noted, scratching his head. "I don't know her well, but she doesn't seem the type."

"It was a ‘Gemma and my dad had a one night stand’ kind of thing," Stiles wished that was all he knew about his conception. "She didn't want another kid and her husband didn't want someone else’s kid, so..."

"You and your brother have different dads?"

"Jax and me have different everything," Without their bond, the only thing that connected them was some blood. "Yeah, Jax's old man was SAMCRO's original king. My dad's a sheriff in a town north of here."

"Your dad's a cop?" Juice tensed, his guard going up. "I, uh, I didn't know that."

"Chill, man, he's one of the good ones," Stiles dad was on the up-and-up and he actually gave a shit about the people he was elected to protect and serve, that was more than Stiles could say about most of the deputies that made up Charming PD these days. "Don't judge him by his badge, all right? He's the best person in the world to have on your side."

"I'm not judging. I just haven't had the best experience with cops," Juice explained, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "And it's a little strange, right? A biker queen and a sheriff?"

"Yeah, well, they had history, pre-biker queen and badge," A history Stiles didn't want to delve into, so he would make a long story short. "They grew up together and all that. Got drunk together as adults, one thing led to another, and here I am."

"I think you and I share similar back stories," Juice murmured, but didn't elaborate. "Your dad's cool with you hanging around a bunch of outlaws?"

"He doesn't like it, but he accepts it because my brother's one," Stiles was grateful for that, he couldn't imagine who he'd be without his brother in his life. "Those outlaws are strangers to you, but you let them bring you up to an isolated spot in the middle of the woods. They could've brought you up for some very unsavory reasons. You think your folks would be cool with that? They didn't teach you stranger danger or what?"

"My folks don't care one way or another what I do or who I see anymore," Juice said sharply. "You want some truth? I don’t know why I let a bunch of strangers bring me up to their little cabin. They could've killed me or worse. It was a chance I was willing to take."

"A chance for what?"

"I'm not sure yet," Juice confessed. "Just...something..."

"Not something inside this cabin, though," There was nothing in the cabin besides old photographs, some antique furniture, and a whole lot of dust. "Your wannabe nursemaids say there's no reason for you to be up here anymore. You could come back to town anytime you want, whenever you’re ready."

"And go where? Do what?" Juice clenched his jaw. "I've got nothing but a pack of smokes and backpack of dirty clothes to my name."

"You can work in the garage, maybe earn a few bucks cleaning up the clubhouse and other odd jobs around the property," There were plenty of ways for him to make some money. "Stay at the clubhouse until we can find a more permanent place for you."

"I don't get you people," Juice glowered at him. "Why would you guys even do something like that for me? I asked Gemma, but she fed me some bullshit story."

"The club is always looking for more soldiers. The younger they are when they recruit them, the easier it is to groom them into the perfect soldiers," Stiles had seen it play out more than once, had seen unsuspecting men and women wander into the clubs line of sight and get sucked into the world of leather kuttes and motorcycles. "You're young, street smart, and obviously not afraid to dabble in illegal activities. You’re estranged from your family, in need of a new one that could understand you better than the one you were born to. You are a clean slate for them, the perfect mark."

"They want to mold me into one of them."

"It doesn’t mean they’ll force you to patch SAMCRO," That wasn't how the club operated. "By helping you out, trying to give you a job and a safe place to sleep, you owe them now. You owe them your silence if you happen to see or hear anything you shouldn't. You owe them your complete loyalty for however long you're here."

"I can keep my mouth shut," Juice assured him. "Thanks, you know, for giving me a real answer instead of the run around."

"No problem," Stiles didn’t appreciate bullshit being spewed his way anymore than the next guy. "Does it help you decide whether you're ready to come back to town or not?"

"Kind of, yeah," A shy smile tugged at the corner of Juice’s lips. "I think I want to stay here a little longer. Maybe a few more hours just to prepare myself for...people."

"Okay," Stiles wouldn’t make him leave if he wasn’t ready. "I can have Chibs come get you before dinner."

"You're not staying?" Juice frowned, suddenly nervous. "I mean...it's nice to talk to someone who's..."

“Honest and also a fantastic conversationalist? I know,” Stiles preferred talking to himself over most of the guys in the club too. “Sorry, bud. I have a session that I don’t really think I should miss. I’ll probably be by the clubhouse later, though.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

One thing Jax had learned from his little brothers was that he couldn't play the same role twice, not when his brothers were as different as they were alike. Both were overly affectionate children, but while Thomas always sought it out, Stiles offered it freely to anyone he thought might need it. Thomas turned to Jax to deal with school bullies and chase away the monsters under his bed, Stiles grudgingly accepted protection if Jax saw he needed it, never asked for it outright. Jax had learned to be a big brother from Thomas, but in a lot of ways, Stiles challenged everything he knew about it.

Thomas had been a shy kid, easily frightened, hiding away in their mother's arms any chance he got. Stiles had a way of overwhelming a room of people, even as a small child he commanded attention without uttering a word. The older Stiles got, the more he reminded Jax of how Thomas had been as a boy, tired, sad, recoiling from a world that seemed poised to destroy him.

It wasn't always like that, though, that's what Jax kept getting stuck on. Stiles had retreated further and further into himself for reasons that went beyond getting older and learning to handle his own business. Given how close they had always been, Jax couldn't imagine how bad it had to be for Stiles to keep it from him. Unfortunately, Jax had struck out in every attempt to convince his brother to tell him what's going on so he could make it better. His only option was to persuade Stiles father to break whatever vow of silence Stiles had sworn him to.

“I know that when Stiles asks you to keep quiet about something, you take it seriously,” Jax respected that, except when it stood in the way of him trying to look out for his baby brother. “But I need to know what he’s keeping from me.”

“Being his brother doesn’t entitle you to his secrets, Jax,” John sipped from the glass of bourbon Jax had poured him in an effort to loosen his tongue. “Just like he’s not entitled to yours.”

“I don’t keep secrets from Stiles,” Not for a lack of trying. “He always finds them out.”

“It’s not his fault you can’t keep things to yourself.”

“He woke up screaming this morning,” It was still echoing in Jax’s ears. “He was hysterical.”

“I know, he told me,” John said sympathetically. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“I’ve seen his nightmares before,” None of this was new to Jax. “He won’t tell me what they’re about, so I know they’ve got to be something fucking horrific. I just want to know what’s going on with my little brother.”

“When something happens to your kid, some doctor or another parent will tell you kids are resilient,” John scrubbed his palm over his forehead, trying uselessly to smooth over the ever-present stress lines “ _’Don’t worry. They bounce back. It’ll all be okay.’_ ”

“It’s not okay,” If it were anywhere near okay, Jax wouldn’t be so goddamn worried. “He’s not okay.”

“He’s not okay,” John agreed, eyes filling with tears. “Because what those well-meaning people don’t tell you is that it gets a little harder for them every time they get knocked down.”

“I’m never going to get a straight answer out of you about this, am I?” Jax should’ve known better than to bother asking. “Keeping it quiet isn’t making it better for him.”

“Stiles is going to be okay. He’s going to bounce back, Jackson,” John sounded clear, confident, almost like he actually believed what he was saying. “It’s just going to take some time.”

“It was bad, right?” Jax could figure that much out for himself. “If I knew what it was, I could help.”

“I will not break Stiles trust by telling you something he’s not ready for you to know,” John said firmly. “All I can say is he was put in a dangerous situation and he’s struggling to come to terms what he had to do to survive.”

“Does he think I’ll judge him for it?” Jax didn’t buy that, his brother knew him better than to think he would judge him for anything. “Or does he just not trust me?”

“He doesn’t trust how you’ll react to it.”

* * *

 

Juice had learned to just go with the flow where the club was concerned in his short time in Charming. He tried not to ask questions that would overstep invisible boundary lines or be too much of a bother if he could help it. So when the Scotsman showed up at the cabin late in the afternoon, told Juice it was time to return to the land of the living, tossed him a set of keys and ordered him to drive, Juice obediently got behind the wheel without making a fuss.

"You're a quiet one, ain't ya?" Chibs mentioned, sliding a flask out of his shirt pocket. "Shy or skittish?"

"Nothing much to say, I guess," Juice shrugged, navigating the truck down the rough forest roads. "All talked out."

"Stiles or Gemma?" Chibs asked, a cheeky grin on face. "Either one can leave you exhausted."

"Stiles is cool," It was easier for him to relax around the other teenager, probably had a lot to do with their shared age and the honest answers Stiles had given him. "Gemma’s…nice."

"But?"

"It kind of feels like she's running a game on me," The matriarch had an oddly soothing presence, sure, but there something else there that Juice wasn’t ready to trust. "All that shit about helping me because she doesn't like seeing history repeated."

"Sometimes Gemma says things to incite a reaction," Chibs revealed, taking a swig from his flask. "She's not wrong, though. We've all got some shit history we'd rather forget."

"History that landed you in Charming," Juice wondered how a small town in Northern California managed to attract so many shady types from all walks of life. "You're obviously not from around here."

"Glasgow originally, Belfast prior to Charming," Chibs rested his head against the window. "That's where I met Jax's old man. He was there helping set up the clubs Belfast charter, said if I ever needed a place to go, there was a place for me in Charming."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"He had his moments," Grief flickered over Chibs features. "He had already passed by the time I came around."

"I thought, uh, that guy, Clay?" Juice thought that was the name anyway. "I thought he was Jax's dad."

"Clay is Jax's stepdad, Gemma's second husband," Chibs offered some Teller-Morrow family history. "Stiles can't stand Clay, so I'm sure he's already warned you away from him."

"Not really," Juice hadn't asked and Stiles hadn't told. "Is it cool if I ask why you left Belfast?"

"I'll tell you why I left home if you tell me why did."

"You first."

"You could say I was forced out," Chibs mumbled, rubbing the scars on his cheeks. "Why'd you leave Queens?"

"Kind of the same," Juice hadn't left on his own volition, not at first anyway. "I was dropped off at the bus station, given a few bucks, and told to go."

"Why?"

"I did something," It didn't matter that the person who sent him away had no idea what he'd done, he was sure it was the reason he'd been banished from his home and everything he'd ever known. "Something they won't forgive me for."

"We've all done things, lad."

* * *

 

Therapy was something Stiles started to give his father peace of mind. As a child, being prodded into talking by a stranger was uncomfortable and a little boring. When he got older, counseling remained uncomfortable, but he could recognize how it could be helpful to him. It was easier, sometimes, to speak to someone outside his family circle.

"You look tired," Dr. Marin Morrell noted, concerned. "Are you still having trouble sleeping?"

"Yes," The dark bags beneath his eyes were a testament to that. "I still don't want to take anything for it, though."

"All right," The therapist scribbled something on a pad of paper. "How are the nightmares?"

"Okay, I guess, not as frequent," They had tapered off over the last few months. "I don't wake up screaming as often, but still sometimes."

"Sometimes is better than all the time," Morrell praised his improvement with an encourage smile. "When was your last nightmare?"

"Last night."

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

"It was that night again," Stiles shuddered at the memory. "I was in the parking lot at the animal clinic, trying to get the Jeep to start. My brother was calling my phone, but I never got the chance to answer it. You know the rest."

"Sometimes elements that appear in our dreams are things that our waking minds are struggling to work through," Morrell hypothesized. "We know that your nightmare is a memory of an attack you suffered, but it seems to focus on certain moments of that night, like the missed call from your brother."

"You think my subconscious is trying to tell me something?" Stiles could entertain that theory to a degree. "I can't exactly go back in time to answer the phone."

"You can't go back in time," Morrell nodded. "But you can pick up the phone. You can tell him what happened."

"No, I can't," His brother was the last person Stiles could talk to about that night. "Jax doesn't know anything about what happened. He doesn't need to know anything. It had nothing to do with him."

"In our past sessions, you have been very open about the close bond you share with your brother," Morrell commented. "Why is it, do you think, that you feel compelled to shield your brother from your trauma?"

"Jax needs to see himself as the protector, as my protector," Stiles figured it had something to do with Jax being unable to save Thomas from something modern medicine couldn't save him from. "There's no way Jax could've changed what happened that night. He wasn't there."

"You think he would see it as a failure on his part?"

"Yes," It wasn’t logical, but then again neither was his brother. "He can't know about that night o-or what happened after. He just can't."

"Let's talk about that night," Morrell prompted him. "You're still having a lot of trouble coming to terms with what happened to you, with what you had to do."

"Yeah, I am," It was when it stopped weighing on his conscience that he would worry. "I think about it all the time, what I could have done differently, if it could have been different."

"When did you first come into contact with your attacker?" Morrell asked, although the answer was in her notes, they had talked about it before.

"At the station," He had been bringing his dad dinner when the guy had been brought in. "Deputies were trying to put him in a holding cell, he saw my dad and just started screaming at him, threatening him. Every time they crossed paths, he was threatening my dad."

"How long after your initial contact did he begin stalking you?"

"I don't know exactly," Could have been any time before or after that night at the station. "Beacon Hills is a small town, I'd seen him around. It wasn't until I saw him sitting outside the garage where I work that I realized he had shifted his focus to me. He wanted...he wanted to use me to get to my dad."

"Did you tell anyone that you suspected he was following you?"

"I didn't suspect anything. He was following me," Stiles had photographic evidence to prove it. "I didn't tell anyone until...until after, because I didn't want to worry anyone."

"Things came to a head that night in the parking lot," Morrell deduced from previous sessions and the reports she’d been given when he had begun treatment. "How did you end up there?"

"It was late. I was on my way home, coming back from Charming," Stiles always got in late Sunday nights to make it home for school on Monday. "The Jeep started overheating, so I pulled into the nearest parking lot, at the animal clinic."

"There was evidence the overheating was caused by tampering," Morrell referred to a notation in his file. "But according to family and friends of the suspect, he had no knowledge of vehicle maintenance."

"It's not hard to Google something or even look it up at a library," There were plenty of ways for someone with no background in mechanics to figure out how to sabotage a vehicle. "The car overheated, I pulled over to see what the problem was. I popped the hood, he attacked me from behind, and I...I..."

"He harassed your family, threatened your father, and stalked you for weeks," Morrell reviewed the events that led up to the final confrontation. "What happened that night at the animal clinic, it was not a random act of violence. It was a targeted attack."

"I know." It was methodical, planned out perfectly. "It doesn't make what I did any easier."

"All you did was make it through the night."


	3. awful people they surround you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter Title come froms [Monsters - Band of Horses](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lx8ODRANoGs)  
> Gif set: [Cracked Up](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/184779128311/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-cracked-up-strays)  
> *Theo Rossi has a long filmography, but I don't actually have a lot of clips of him in his early career days, so the gif sets are a little harder to do, but I'm trying to gather more.

Juice had trained himself to sleep anywhere and through everything. Loud music, screaming voices, even alarm clocks couldn't stir him from his slumber. Unfortunately, having shit thrown on top of him while he slept was an almost guaranteed way to rouse him into consciousness.

"The fuck...?" Juice grumbled sleepily, tossing something bulky off his head and burying his face in the pillow. "What the hell, man?"

"Get up," Piney yanked the blanket off him. "Get dressed, get some breakfast."

"Dude, it's early," Juice glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Oh, my god. It's not even six a.m. What the fuck?"

"We've got to leave soon if we’re going to get you to school on time," Piney nudged him, looking poised and ready to rip the pillow right out from under him. "Let's go."

"You got the wrong guy, man," Juice burrowed himself deeper into the bed. "I'm not in school."

"You are now, Gemma and me had you enrolled," Piney clapped his hands together right next to Juice's ear. "Get up."

"Why?" He whined, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. "Why would enroll me in school?"

"You're a kid, kids should be in school," Piney reasoned. "Education's important these days."

"School was never my thing, that's why I stopped going," He had no desire to go back. "I'm more of a street-smart kind of guy."

"Well, now, you're going to be a book-smart kind of guy," Piney crossed his arms over his chest, prepared to wait him out. "Until you turn eighteen, at least."

"Setting aside the fact that you can't actually force me to go to school," They helped him out, absolutely, gave him a job and a place to sleep, but that didn't give them control over his life. "What does it matter to you if I go to school or not? I thought you guys wanted to groom me to be one of you. How does high school fit into that?"

"We got enough idiots in the club, we can use someone with half a brain," Piney said, not denying the grooming dig. "You might as well do something useful until you're old enough to prospect, if you choose to prospect."

"I can work in the garage to be useful."

"Or you can go to school, get an education, and look after Stiles," Piney revealed his true motive. "He's had a rough time at school. He doesn't have the club or his big brother to watch his back in Beacon Hills. He could use a friend."

"Stiles doesn't seem like the kind of person who has trouble making friends," The other kid gave off some strange vibes, sure, but nothing off-putting. "What's the deal?"

"He's had a rough time," The old man repeated. "Did your high school friends stick around when you turned into a junkie?"

"I was a junkie before I got to high school," He was an early bloomer in that respect. "Most of the friends I met in high school were in the same boat as me."

"Yeah, well, Stiles friends decided he was too much to deal with," Piney sneered. "Beacon Hills isn't like Charming. The people there are different."

"You want me to look out for him."

"I would appreciate it, yeah," Piney nodded. "And if you learn something while you're there, that's just a bonus."

"Fine."

* * *

 

Stiles had never been the kind of person who was comfortable fully or even partially nude in front of other people or himself. There wasn't some deep psychological reason behind it that he felt the need to explore with his shrink. It was as simple as not liking what he saw when he looked in the mirror. However, there were some moments when he couldn't help but get stuck on his marred flesh.

Bands of raised skin twisted around his body like crudely drawn tattoos, some silver, long since healed over, others still red and angry, taunting. It wouldn't have been so bad, lots of people had scars, but he had the unfortunate ability to be able to recall the origin of each one with perfect clarity. Some of them were innocent, like the cheese-grater remnants of the road-rash he got crashing Jax's bike when he was small and left unattended. Others served as a glaring reminder of moments in his life that he wished he could erase from existence all together.

"Stiles?" His father's voice called out to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," He hastily pulled a t-shirt over his head, hiding his scars from sight. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay," The older man leaned against the doorframe. "You sure you want to do this today?"

"Go to school?" Stiles raised a brow, slipping a hoody on over his shirt. "I didn't realize it was optional."

"I can call the tutor, you can go to school right here," His dad gestured to the house. "You don't have to go back there."

"Yes, I do," He couldn't keep hiding away, pretending like nothing happened. "It's just school, Dad. It's always sucked."

"Yeah, well, it reached a whole new level last year," His dad scowled. "It wasn't safe for you."

"I was in the wrong headspace," He had returned to school too soon, he hadn’t been ready, that was his mistake. "I'm better now.”

"That doesn't mean your classmates are."

"I'm sure a lot of drama went down this summer," Set a bunch of teenagers loose for weeks at a time, shit is bound to go down. "My stuff is old news by now."

"That school is not a safe environment for you," His father claimed, worry painting his features. "I don't think I can let you go back."

"You gotta let me try, Dad," Stiles understood his dad's reservations completely, but he couldn't let that stop him. "If it gets too bad, I'll leave and we can do the home school thing."

"You call me if something happens," His dad instructed him. "You call if you need me."

"I'll call to check in," Stiles promised. "I'll go straight to the station if I'm feeling overwhelmed or if something happens and I decide to leave school early."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His father asked, trepidation in his tone. "'Cause you don't have to."

"I'm sure I want to try," That was the best he could do. "I'll be okay, Dad."

"I know you will."

* * *

 

School had never been the least bit beneficial to Juice, not the same way it had been to his older siblings. It wasn't challenging, the teachers were condescending, and the other kids were assholes. Juice had stopped attending when he realized it was a gigantic waste of his time. Being convinced to return was enough for him fall back into the role of petulant teenager, something he would have sworn he was too mature to do.

"I can't believe I have to do this," Juice was game to help a friend in a tight spot, but that didn't mean he was happy about the circumstances. "Can't you just get the club to threaten whatever dickhead is fucking with Stiles?"

"Stiles likes to keep his worlds separate," Piney mentioned, pulling the truck up to the curb outside the high school. "And he's not going to set the club loose on anyone to protect himself. That's not who he is."

"I feel like having an MC in his pocket is completely lost on Stiles," What was the point of having a biker for a brother if you weren't going to use it to your advantage? "Where am I supposed to find him in this shithole?"

"You've seen his Jeep, it stands out," Piney leaned across the seat to open the passenger side door for him. "Go on now."

"I'm going," Juice grumbled, sliding out of the truck and hitching the backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

The old man had been right about the Jeep, it stood out like a sore thumb in a parking lot packed with high-priced vehicles. Stiles was sitting on the bumper, too distracted by something on his phone to notice anyone around him.

"What kind of school is this?" Juice said to announce his presence. "No one at my old school drove a Porsche."

"Yeah, well, the wealthy and elite outnumber the working class here in Beacon Hills," Stiles muttered, glancing up at him. "How else are they supposed to show their superiority than by sending their children to school in brand new luxury cars?"

"By buying them expensive clothes and jewelry, but I guess they got that covered too," Juice noted the attire the other kids in the lot were dressed in. "You sure this isn't a private school trying to pass itself off as a public school?"

"I'm sure. There's one private school in town, it's for the special kind of smart kids or kids with mommies and daddies willing to pay to make them seem much smarter than they are," Stiles explained, slipping his phone into his pants pocket. "I went there for a few months, before I got kicked out."

"Did you insult the dean or something?"

"I used a firecracker in a science fair project, they said it was akin to an explosive, therefore against the rules, and expelled me," Stiles revealed, rolling his eyes at the decision. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Piney said I needed to be in school," He thought it best not to mention the part about Piney wanting him to watch Stiles back. "And thought it'd be better if I were here with you instead of in Charming High or whatever."

"Between you and me, I would've chosen Charming High," Stiles smiled tightly. "If we lived in Charming, that is."

"If I've got to go back to school, I'd prefer to do it with someone I know," Juice didn't want to be surrounded by strangers entirely. "Doing that commute twice a day is going to suck, though."

"I might have a solution to that," Stiles clucked his tongue. "Let me think on it."

"Okay," It wasn't really his problem, but Juice wouldn't say no to the help. "Can you show me to the office so I can get my schedule?"

"Yeah, sure," Stiles grabbed his backpack off the ground. "Who did they put down as your guardian?"

"I assume it was Piney or Gemma, this was their idea," There was no way he would ever pass for one of their kids, but he doubted that would be much of a problem if he kept his head down. "I guess the staff here doesn't look too deeply into enrollment forms, huh?"

"Guess not," Stiles shrugged as they made their way across the parking lot. "At least you're starting on the first day instead of in the middle of the year, you won't have to catch up on anything."

"I'm not worried about being behind," He didn't plan on trying very hard in class. "I'm only here till I turn eighteen in November."

"If you last that long," Stiles chuckled, pushing his way through the double-doors into the school. "Trust me, this place, these people have a way of sucking the life right out of you."

"Doesn't every school?"

"This one has a way of taking it to the extreme," Stiles muttered, leading Juice into the administrator’s office. "This is the main office, if you're lucky you'll only have to come in here this once."

"Can I help you?" The elderly secretary behind the counter addressed them. "You boys need something?"

"Yes, Mrs. Blankenship. This is Juan Ortiz," Stiles introduced them. "He's new this year and needs his schedule."

"Juan Ortiz...Juan Ortiz..." Mrs. Blankenship sifted through a stack of papers on the counter until she came across the correct one. "Ah. Juan Ortiz. Here we are. You will need to come in at the end of the day for your school ID card, the other students dealt with that at orientation."

"Okay," Juice accepted the schedule, studying the list of assigned classes. "First period/home room is history with Mr. Yukimura."

"Mr. Yukimura's cool, he'll give you an easy morning," Stiles looked over his shoulder at the schedule. "I've got English with Ms. Martin first, but we've both got economics with Finstock later."

"That's a few classes away," Juice would be on his own for most of the day. "You mind showing me where Mr. Yukimura's class is?"

"I can do you one better," Stiles said as they moved out of the office and into the hall. "Come with me."

They strolled down the hall side-by-side, narrowly avoiding colliding with other students rushing to get to where they needed to be. Stiles stopped them at a bank of lockers at the end of the corridor, beside a pretty blonde girl rifling through her locker.

"Hey Malia," Stiles greeted the girl with an easy smile. "How's it going?"

"Okay, I guess," She shut her locker and shifting to face them. "Kira and I weren't sure you were actually gonna show today."

"I didn't know if my dad was going let me, but we both figured it was best if I gave it a shot," Stiles replied, tugging on Juice's shirtsleeve to bring him closer. "This is my friend Juice, he's new this year."

"Hey," Juice exchanged a cursory nod with the girl.

"At orientation, you said you had Yukimura first period. Juice does too. Think you could show him the way?" Stiles asked his friend. "I'd do it, but my first class is on the other side of the building."

"Yeah, sure," Malia agreed. "Not a problem."

"Awesome, thanks," Stiles patted her on the back cordially. "I gotta get to my class, but I'll see you guys at lunch."

"See ya later," Malia waved him off before turning her attention to Juice. "I was the new kid last year, so was my friend Kira. I don't really have any advice for you, other than to say that almost all the other kids here are massive assholes."

"Most kids are," Juice was certainly one, or so he had been told on numerous occasions. "I can handle it."

"Hey, wait," A scrawny kid with an uneven jaw suddenly accosted Juice with a rough grip around his bicep. "You're the guy I saw with Stiles in the parking lot."

"Get the fuck off me, man," Juice wrenched his arm out of the boy's hold, giving him a good shove him into the row of lockers. "What's your problem?"

"Stiles isn't the kind of person you want to hang out with, not anymore," The kid warned him, eyes wide and manic. "Trust me, he's dangerous."

"Trust you?" Juice scoffed. "Dude, I don't even know you."

"I know Stiles. He's dangerous," The kid said again. "He's hurt people."

"You are the only one who's going to get hurt if you keep running your mouth, Scott," Malia growled at the other boy. "I promise, Stiles won't be the one to do it."

"You know I'm right, Malia," Scott retorted, glaring at the girl. "You've been here long enough to have heard what he did. Everybody knows what he did. He's hurt people."

"Get the fuck out of here, man," Juice snarled, stepping into the boy's space, fully prepared to defend Stiles over the bullshit accusations. "Now."

"Like I said, kids here are assholes," Malia linked her arm with Juice's, steering him away from a potential altercation. "Scott McCall is that kid who, on first impression, seems like nothing more than a dumb puppy--"

"First impression, he's a judgmental prick."

"He is a judgmental prick."

* * *

 

John was an overprotective father, Gemma had criticized him for it on more than one occasion, but he never saw it as a fault. Stiles was his only child, the only family he really had, it was his job to keep him safe. He wouldn't go as far as to say he took that protectiveness too far at times, he didn't go out of his way to let his need to keep his son safe disrupt his life.

When he had to return to work after Stiles was born, he secured a spot for Stiles at the daycare right across the street from the station so he could check in on him throughout the day. When Stiles started school, John would drive by in his patrol car during recess to see that everything was all right. He did what he had to do to give himself some peace of mind.

It was that need for peace of mind that drew him to the high school during what he knew to be Stiles lunch hour. His didn't find his son in the cafeteria or the outdoor seating area, although he was certain he spied his Juan Carlos at one of the tables with Stiles friends Kira and Malia. Fear and dread washed over him, following him through the school halls until he finally spotted his son coming out of the guidance counselor’s office.

"Stiles," He sighed in relief, draping his arm loosely around the teenager. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," A reassuring smile spread across Stiles lips. "Just changing some of my classes around. What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see how things were going for you," John had a tendency to worry without cause where Stiles was concerned. "What was wrong with your schedule?"

"They had me signed up for chem with Harris," Stiles glared as the teacher passed by them in the hall. "They lost my transcripts from Charming Community College showing I completed that class there during my ‘sabbatical’ from this hellhole."

"But you got it sorted out?"

"Yeah, the college faxed over a copy of my transcript," Chemistry was the singular class Stiles managed to complete over the summer. "You on your lunch break?"

"Yep," Or he would be once he picked up some food on the way back to the station. "I went looking for you in the cafeteria, saw someone else I didn't expect to see. What's your friend from Charming doing here?"

"You and Piney said he should be in school," Stiles said with a shrug. "He's in school."

"He just showed up here today?"

"I got the impression it was more Piney's choice than his," Stiles noted, toying with the straps on his backpack. "Says he'll only be here till his birthday."

"Okay," John was happy Piney had taken his advice to get the boy back in school, he just hoped it would do him some good. "Is he adjusting all right?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen him since this morning," Stiles admitted, biting his lip. "I left him in Malia's care this for first period, they share a few classes."

"I'm sure she'll look out for him," John knew Malia could be a lot at times, but she had also shown herself to be loyal to Stiles in the short time they had known each other. "She's been through a lot, but she's a good kid."

"She is," Stiles nodded. "Hey, uh, so if Juice is going to be going to school here, it doesn't really make since for him to go back and forth from Charming every day, and we have a spare room...."

"So you were thinking it would stay with us," It did make sense, they had the room and it was John's idea that the boy go back to school. "I suppose that would be okay, if you think it'd be a good fit."

"I think it'll be a great fit," Stiles beamed at the prospect of his friend staying with them, but schooled his features quickly. "I mean, I know I haven't known him more than a few weeks, but I think I've got a pretty good read on him."

"And what's your read on him?"

"That first summer after Mom died, when I got real clingy with Jax, you know, throwing tantrums when he would leave my sight, I heard Opie tell Jax that I was acting out because I needed to be someone's priority," Stiles recalled. "I think that's what Juice needs. He needs to be someone's priority. He told me he was one of six siblings, so as much as his parents might have tried, I doubt he ever really got everything he needed from them."

"His parents were probably spread pretty thin," John didn't know them, didn't know anything about them, so he wouldn't judge them for whatever they could or could not provide for their children. "You want him to move in with us, so I'll take that to mean you want me to make him my priority. You sure you'd be okay with that?"

"I know I can be a bit possessive--"

"Oh, just a bit," John hadn't given Stiles much of a reason to be possessive over him, so it wasn't something he was worried about. "It's just been me and you since Mom died. You've been through a lot lately. Another kid is a big change. I just want to make sure you're not jumping into something you're not ready for."

"I like Juice," Stiles commented. "I don't think he would rock the boat or whatever. He could really fit in with us."

"Okay," He would take his son's word for it. "Talk to him about it, see if he'd be open to staying with us during the week."

"I'll talk to him."

"So, let's talk about you for a minute," John had come to the school for a reason. "How have things really been here today? Have the other kids.... How have the other kids been with you?"

"No one had said anything to me directly," Stiles scuffed his sneakers against the linoleum floor. "But they also aren't as quiet as they think with their whispers."

"I'm sorry, son," John hated that his son was having such a tough time at school. "If you don't want to be here--"

"I can handle some whispers," Stiles said confidently. "If it escalates or gets out of hand, I will reconsider the homeschooling thing."

"It shouldn't get out of hand," John had spoken to the administrators and the school board repeatedly in an effort to get them to actually enforce their policy on bullying or take new steps to protect the children being targeted. "School is supposed to be a safe place."

"That might've been true when you were a kid, but it's not that way anymore," Stiles remarked scornfully. "It's just one more level of hell we have to claw our way out of."

"It shouldn't be."

"But it is."

* * *

 

At his old high school, Juice was just one of hundreds of faceless students that blended into the background with the other under-achievers. Beacon Hills High was a different kind of beast all together. Wealthy, privileged kids walked around with their chests puffed out, acting as if they were owed something because they had to share a school with those who weren't born with silver spoons sticking out of their asses.

Juice had kept his head down most of the day, avoiding the resentful stares of the rich brats he had to sit beside in class. He'd followed Malia and later her friend Kira around from class to class, only catching glimpses of Stiles in the hall throughout the day. By the time lunch rolled around, he was in desperate need of a cigarette or a shot of tequila.

"This place makes me miss my old school," He grumbled picking at the food on his tray. "I'd take having to go through a metal detector every morning over dealing with a bunch of stuck up assholes like these kids."

"I told you," Malia smirked, jabbing at the mash potatoes with a plastic fork. "Makes me miss the woods."

"The woods?"

"I lived by myself in the woods for a few years," Malia responded, shoveling food into her mouth. "Shrink said I had some psychotic break after watching my mom and sister be mauled by coyotes. I took off into the woods to save myself and didn't come out until someone found me last year."

"Oh," Not anywhere near the answer Juice was expecting. "Okay."

"Stiles and I met a little while after that," Malia revealed. "At the local nuthouse where they sent me to be re-civilized."

"Malia," Kira admonished her friend with her name. "Eichen House is a mental health facility."

"I'm guessing that's not how you and Stiles met," Juice did what he could to change the subject, afraid he would learn something about Stiles that Stiles wasn't ready for him to know. "But you were new to this school last year too, right?"

"Yeah, my family moved here last year. My dad's the history teacher," Kira smiled fondly at thoughts of her father. "Kids here don't really take kindly to other students having teachers for parents, unless you're willing to steal test answers or something, which I'm not."

"Stiles dad being the sheriff probably hasn't done him any favors here," He'd be willing to bet that carried over to any child of a member of law enforcement in any school. "You two bonded over being ostracized?"

"Something like that, yeah," Kira nodded. "And I dated his friend Scott for a little while."

"’Asshole’ doesn't really seem like your type," Granted, Juice had only known Kira for a few hours, but still he got the impression she would go for the nice guy. "It is the same Scott I met this morning, right?"

"Same Scott," Malia confirmed, side eyeing her friend. "She suffered from temporary insanity."

"Scott is a nice guy," Kira claimed, but Juice wasn't buying it and from the look of Malia's scowl, she wasn't either. "He can just be.... He has a narrow view of the world, I guess. He sees things in black and white with zero room for any grey area."

"That's fine and all when you're a little kid," Back then, fairytales were real and you could believe everything would always work out so long as you did the right thing and made the right choices. "But by high school, you should at least have some kind of idea of how the world really works."

"The only way someone retains enough innocence to still believe the world is only made up of good and evil, is if they are extremely sheltered individuals," Stiles surmised as he sat down next to Juice at the table. "Not that I have any idea who you are talking about."

"Doesn't matter," Juice decided that wasn't a topic to broach with Stiles at the moment. "I thought I saw your dad around when I was getting my food."

"Yeah, he came to check on me. He worries," Stiles said sheepishly. "How's your day gone so far? These lovely ladies watching your back?"

"They've been great," Juice was grateful to the girls for sticking by him. "You good?"

"I'm fine," Stiles pasted on a grin that would almost appear sincere if you didn't look too deeply. "Oh, my dad said you could stay with us during the school week."

"I don't want to put you guys out--"

"Dude, it's fine, we've got the room," Stiles patted him on the back. "Or you can make the two-hour drive twice a day, five days a week."

"Staying with you and your dad sounds great."

* * *

 

Things had been dull with Opie in jail and Stiles in Beacon Hills. Jax tried to keep himself busy with club shit and Wendy, work too if he was really bored. Work was winning out more often than not.

"Jackson," Piney grunted his name as he shuffled into the garage. "Johnny called."

"Stiles okay?" Jax had been worried about his brother returning to school, especially since he'd been acting out of sorts. "Something happen?"

"No, it wasn't about Stiles," Piney leaned over the car Jax was doing his best to repair. "He's going to let Juice stay up there, with him and Stiles, during the school week. He wanted to know where the kid would stay while he's here on weekends working."

"The clubhouse," That's where the kid had been crashing more often than not. "Actually, the clubhouse apartment gets pretty crowded on weekends, maybe the couch in the office would be better."

"I think the couch at your place would be a better fit," Piney said pointedly. "Stiles is with you on weekends, he and Juice are friends..."

"The weekends are the only time Stiles and I get to spend together during the school year," Jax didn't want to lose that time with his brother. "Why can't Juice stay with you?"

"A teenage boy living alone with an old man might seem fishy to some," Piney grimaced at the idea. "He should be with someone his own age."

"Oh, come the fuck on..."

"He'll be working most of the day anyway, only coming here to sleep," Piney tapped his fingers impatiently against the side of the car. "He's not going to get in the way of your Stiles time."

"He better not," Jax didn't get to spend enough time with his baby brother as it was. "Hey, what if he stayed with Gemma and Clay? They're a married couple; people would think they adopted a teenage boy, nothing fishy about that."

"Stiles needs this, Jax. He needs to spend time with kids his own age instead of middle-aged outlaws and sheriff's deputies," Piney argued. "He's already grown up way too fast, and something tells me Juice has too. They both deserve a chance to be young for a little while longer, and I think the only way they can do that is with someone that can understand them."

"You think Stiles and this kid can understand each other?" They were the same age, sure, but that didn't mean they'd been through the same things. "They're from completely different worlds, man."

"Where we come from is only part of the story, Jackson.”

* * *

 

Being the second to youngest child in a big family meant Juice had never been allowed a room of his own. Even after his older siblings had begun moving out of the house and into their own homes, he was forced to share with his little brother. He'd always wondered what it would be like to have his own space, 'course he figured if he ever got it, it would be in some roach-infested shithole studio apartment, not a well-kept house with someone else’s family.

"This started out as a storage room," John mentioned, running a dust cloth over the dresser. "We cleaned it out and moved the bed in here with the intention of it being a guest room, but we never have any guests, so..."

"I find that hard to believe," Nice place, nice people, Juice couldn't imagine anyone turning the Stilinskis down on an offer to stay. "You guys seem like a tight knit family, the kind that sticks close together."

"We are," John nodded, grinning proudly. "But we're also a small family. Aside from an aunt in Charming, Stiles is pretty much all I've got."

"Oh."

"And your family?" John asked, continuing to tidy up the bedroom. "Are they close?"

"I guess," Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, they all lived within blocks of each other in the same borough. "As close as we could be, I guess."

"Who are you closest to in your family?" John questioned curiously. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't know," Juice had never really fit in with the rest of his family. "I was sort of the odd one out."

"Work with me here, kid," John urged him. "What about your parents? Which one, if either, did you turn to when you needed someone?"

"My mom," Juice's mother had been the only person he ever really trusted. "She's the nurturer, one of those people who was born to be a parent, you know. People flocked to her for advice and care. She was the neighborhood mom."

"Maybe you should give her a call," John cautiously suggested. "Give someone in your family a call, let them know you're okay."

"They don't want to hear from me," The way he had left things, he was certain his family would never answer a call from him. "I'm not... I wasn't...-- I'm a fucking junkie, man, they don't want to deal with me anymore."

"You're a recovering addict," John corrected him. "That's important."

"I've been in recovery before," It was all old hat now. "I've put them through it so many times and ended up right back in the gutter. They’re tired of it. They've finally washed their hands of me."

"I won't pretend to know what you've been through or what your relationship with your family is like or why it is the way it is," John said sympathetically. "But I am a parent, okay? I can promise you that there is nothing my kid could say or do that would make me so angry that I wouldn't wonder where he was or if he was safe."

"Stiles is really lucky to have you," Juice wished his father had cared half as much about him and his brothers and sisters. "Not every parent is like that."

"I'm aware of that," John murmured sadly. "When's the last time you spoke to yours? Have you made contact with them at all since you left home?"

"No," He needed a clean break and he had a feeling his family did too. "Like I said, they don't want to hear from me."

"Look, Juan Carlos, I don't want to overstep or make you uncomfortable," John started. "But I really think you should call home, let your family, your mother, know you're safe."

"I-I can't," If he made that call, heard his mother's voice, he would crack into a million pieces. "I c-can't do that. I can't."

"Okay. That's okay," John assured him. "Would you mind if I gave them a call? Just to give your family some peace of mind."

"What if they make me go back?" Panic clawed at Juice's throat. "I can't... I'm not... I'm not ready to go back."

"If they don't want to hear from you, as you say," John tossed his words back at him. "Why would they make you come home?"

"I...don't…know."

"Let me speak to your family," John requested, gently prodding him. "If they want you to come home, I will try to smooth things over, talk them into letting you stay."

"Why?" A few weeks in and Juice still did not understand why virtual strangers were so goddamn willing to accommodate him. "Why would you do that for me?"

"Because I know that home and family aren't always the answer," John twisted the dust rag in his hands. "Some people just need distance to heal their wounds."

"What were your wounds?" Juice wasn't sure what possessed him to ask, it was an invasive question to someone he barely knew. "You don't have to answer that. I'm sorry."

"While I was growing up, my father was the chief of police in Charming. He was a stubborn man, strong in his convictions. Charming was a safe place to live then, somewhere you would want to raise your children, and he wanted to keep it that way," Grief clouded over John's haggard face. "Certain folks didn't agree with that, including one of his deputies. They wanted to move guns and drugs through town and my dad refused to let that happen, so they executed him."

"I'm sorry."

"Everyone knew who was responsible. The other cops, the DA, judges, city council, the townspeople, all these people he spent his life protecting and serving, they all knew and they said nothing, did nothing. They just went on with their lives like nothing happened," John clenched his jaw. "I couldn't reconcile with that. I couldn't live with those people anymore. I left town an hour after the funeral. I only go back to drop Stiles off or to pick him up. I never stay longer than I need to.”

"The people who killed your dad just got away with it?" Where Juice came from, cop killers didn't last long on the street. "Nothing happened to them?"

"One of them is dead now, smeared across the interstate after a motorcycle accident. May he rest in hell," John pulled no punches when speaking of the dead. "Another of them is sitting at my father's desk in Charming PD, acting as some kind of moral authority. The other thinks of himself as a small-town kingpin, dealing in weapons."

"I'm sorry that happened to your dad and to you," Juice would offer his condolences if he thought they would mean anything. "My dad's gone too. He was beaten to death."

"I'm sorry," John reached out, squeezing his shoulder to comfort him. "I didn't find anything in your file when Gemma had me look into you."

"It-it was right b-before I left, my, uh, my file must not have been updated yet, I-I guess," Juice stammered, regretting bringing it up. "Hey, um, I should, uh... Can I-- I need to talk to Stiles about, uh, a school thing. Is that okay?"

"Sure," John nodded. "About calling your family, is it okay if I do? I’d just like them to know that you’re all right."

"Um... I- I guess that'd be okay, if you think it's best."

"Okay."

* * *

 

Stiles wasn't the type to hide under the covers when things got tough, but he'd gotten pretty good at it over the last several months. After a day at school, surrounded by vile creatures cleverly disguised as young human beings, Stiles needed some peace and quiet. He squirreled himself away in his room, sat on the bed with head in his hands, trying to decompress from the long day.

"Hey," Juice rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. "You okay?"

"Yep," Stiles lied easily, lifting his head. "All moved into your room?"

"My backpack's hanging from the bedpost and my dirty laundry is dumped in the basket by the door," Juice stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. "I don't have much more than that."

"I'll take you shopping after we get paid," Stiles decided, knowing the only way his friend would feel at home there was if his private space looked the part. "You can make the room your own."

"Like you have yours," Juice gazed around the room, eyes catching on the four CT scans framed and hung over the bed. "Interesting artwork."

"Oh, yeah," Stiles glanced up at his questionable decor. "Those are mine. My brain. My reassurance that everything is normal, medically speaking."

"Right. Okay."

"You and my dad have a good talk?"

"Uh, yeah," Juice nodded. "He's going to call my mom."

"You're not leaving," Stiles tensed. "A-Are you? I mean, I know you have family and all, but..."

"I'm not leaving," Juice shook his head. "He just thinks my mom should know where I am."

"She should," If Stiles ever felt the need to runaway, he would make sure to call his father regularly to prevent any worry. "Do you miss her?"

"Yeah, more than anyone," Juice confessed, tears stinging his eyes. "She's...she's my mom, you know?"

"I know," Stiles nodded toward the photo on his nightstand, taken on his parents wedding day. "That's my mom, Claudia. She and my dad got married when I was three. We only had a few years with her before she died, but she was...the most amazing person in the world."

"She's beautiful," Juice smiled softly, transfixed by the photo. "You guys look really happy."

"We were, for a while," Stiles mumbled, caressing the frame with his fingertips. "What about your family? Were you happy?"

"Sometimes," Juice admitted, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "Not all the time, but that's all families, right?"

"Right."

"So, um, about school," Juice chewed the inside of his cheek. "Is Finstock always so...exhausting?"

"Yes," Stiles cringed, having been subjected to Finstock's particular brand of energy for longer than he cared to remember. "He's what some would call a ‘character.’”

“I met your friend Scott, too," Juice sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He cornered me at Malia's locker and then again during P.E."

"Sorry about that," Stiles wasn't surprised, his former friend had a habit of butting into things if he felt it was in someone's best interest. "I'm sure he had a lot of sugary-sweet things to say."

"He, uh, he said you were dangerous," Juice remarked timidly. "He's not the only one, either. Kids at school talk a lot of shit about you."

"I know."

"Why though?" Juice furrowed his brows, honestly confused by the behavior of the other students. "What... What happened to you?"

"I, um," Stiles swallowed thickly. "I sort of cracked up."

"Cracked up?"

"My therapist would probably prefer I call it a _breakdown_ ," His brain had pretty much imploded on itself, psychologically, at least that's what it felt like at the time. "And I did it very publically."

"Someone got hurt when you cracked up," Juice accurately guessed. "That's why the other kids think you're dangerous?"

"Someone got hurt because I cracked up," It had been the catalyst, the straw that broke the camel’s back. "You should listen to the other kids. They're right about me. I'm dangerous."

"You trying to scare me off?"

"I just want you to have the facts," Stiles didn't want lead him on or continue their friendship under false pretenses. "I don't want you to get angry with me or feel betrayed if you find things out later."

"I don't need to know what you've done, Stiles," Juice offered him a way out of what could be a painful conversation. "We've all done things, right? That's what people keep telling me."

"It's not as simple as that," Stiles wasn't looking to be let off the hook or absolved with SAMCROs party line. "Those things can seem like one thing and be something completely different."

"And people are going to think what they want to think about those things," Juice acknowledged thoughtfully. "You're the only one who knows the full truth."

"I'm not even sure what the full truth is anymore."

"You know your truth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: A newspaper article prompts Juice and Stiles to share their secrets with one another.


	4. I'm lost and it kills me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from : [Paralyzed by NF](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHhHUZsXTBk)  
> GIF Sets: [Teach Me](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/185599665376/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-teach-me-about), [Something Stupid](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/185265894626/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-something-stupid-can), [That Bad](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/185219536456/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-that-bad-are-you).

John had never toyed with the idea of having more children until he married Claudia. She had been so good with Stiles, made things easier, run smoother, made him truly believe they could handle as many children as they could possibly want. They had one child together, a baby girl who never took a single breath outside of the womb, and they never tried again. After Claudia had passed away, John had buried any thoughts of a big family or growing old with someone along with his wife.

His focus returned to Stiles and work alone, just as it had been before Claudia had come into their lives. He never imagined his family would be expanded in the form of a teenage boy much later in life. Bringing Juan Carlos into their home was an easy choice, Stiles didn't have to push the issue. John wouldn't say the kid was easier or harder to deal with thank Stiles, they each had their own sets of problems to solve and needs to tend to, it was just a different experience from one child to the other.

For instance, Stiles had a bad habit of waking with sun, something he had probably picked up from John himself. Juice, he noticed, would sleep as long as he was allowed to, not getting out of bed unless prompted by a blaring alarm clock or friendly voice. In the short time he had been staying with them, John had gotten used to finding him lying awake in bed an hour after his alarm had gone off.

"Is there a reason why you set your alarm so early when you're not actually ready to get out of bed yet?"

"I need the extra hour to mentally prepare myself for school," Juice remarked, kicking the blanket off his body. "I'd take juvie over these rich kids any day."

"Juvie is not really an option right now," John would prefer if they kept it that way. "You're doing okay, though, right? Aside from the rich kids, you're doing okay at school?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just different," Juice shrugged, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "There were a few do-gooder teachers at my old school, ones who were convinced they could make a difference in our lives, but majority of the staff had given up on us entirely. The teachers here, most of them seem to focus on a few kids and ignore the others."

"They pay special attention to the kids who have parents with deep pockets, who can pay for a new computers or sports equipment," It was a point of contention with John and some of the other parents, something they brought up at conferences and school board meetings that continued to go unaddressed. "Is there a teacher in particular giving you a hard time?"

"Harris is a huge asshole," Juice spit out the chemistry teacher’s name. "But I can handle it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," John would leave it alone, for now. "And everything else? Life stuff? That's all..."

"I'm not using," Juice held out his arms to show the distinct lack of track marks. "I did smoke some weed, though, in Charming, but that's not...that wasn't my problem."

"I had a bit of a problem with alcohol after my wife died. I've gotten past it, but I still have a drink now and again," He wasn't a stranger to addiction. "I'm not going to ride you about a little weed, but I do not want any needles in this house, around Stiles--"

"I would never do that," Juice promised him. "I'm not gonna lie, okay, I've staked out every single place in this town I could score if I wanted to, because that urge to shoot up is with me and I don't think it's ever going away, but I haven't fallen off the wagon or whatever. I like being high, but I hated being a junkie, does that make sense?"

"A bit."

"I don't like the things I did while I was using, the high wasn't worth it, I know that now, I knew it the first time I detoxed," Juice acknowledged, chewing on his fingernails anxiously. "I'm trying to be different. I'm trying."

"I know that, I see that," He wasn't trying to imply that he expected the boy to relapse. "But there's no shame in having people help you stay on the right track. I looked into it for you, there are NA meetings at the community center here and in Charming. I think it could be beneficial to you."

"If you want me to do it--"

"It's not an ultimatum," In John's experience, ultimatums did more harm than good. "It's just an option, a resource, if you need it."

"I'll think about it," Juice said, wrapping his arms around his middle. "I've been to those kinds of meetings, I always kind of rolled my eyes at them."

"Well, you're a teenager, if memory serves, an eye roll is a default reaction to anything an adult tries to make you do," John joked and steered the conversation toward a safer topic. "So, I put you on mine and Stiles cellular plan. Stiles has your phone, he's putting everyone's numbers in it for you."

"You didn't have to do that." Juice furrowed his brows. "I get my first check from TM this afternoon, I could have--"

"Part of this guardianship thing is making sure you have everything you need, and a cellphone is a necessity these days. I don't mind paying for it," Technically, John wasn't the kid's legal guardian, not yet anyway, but he would act the part until they could make it official or until the boy turned eighteen, whichever came first. "You shouldn't have to keep borrowing a phone to call your friends or family."

"Or family..." Juice lowered his gaze to the floor. "Have you called them yet?"

"I was going to today," John had carved out a block of time later in the afternoon to get it done. "Is that still okay with you?"

"Y-Yeah, I think so," Juice nodded. "My mom’s name is Antonia. She owns and runs a diner. She works really hard, early hours, late nights. She's going to be tired when you talk to her, she won't let on though."

"I'll try not to keep her on the phone too long," It wasn't John's goal to upset or exhaust her. "Do you want to be there when I call her? We can talk to her together."

"No," Juice shook his head. "No, I can't. She doesn't want to hear from me."

"If she does?" John questioned, if it were him, he would need to hear his son's voice to know he was truly all right. "Would you be willing to speak with her if she asks?"

"I… I don't know."

* * *

 

Stiles had learned to keep his head down at school. He learned not to react the way he wanted to when one of his classmates acted like assholes toward him. He was no longer loud or boisterous, mouthing off to those who crossed him, and he didn't clamor down the halls like he had as much a right to be there as every other kid. In a lot of ways, he had become a shell of himself, locking who he was or, perhaps, who he used to be away.

Sometimes, though, someone would do something, say something, and that bone deep rage would rise up in his throat and anger would prickle his skin.

"Watch where you're going," Jackson Whittemore shouldered past him roughly, slamming him into a bank of lockers. "Psycho."

A deep breath centered him, kept his temper in check. Clenching his fist and digging his nails into the palm of his skin were all that kept him from sending a right hook right into the motherfucker's jaw. Biting back the sharp retort and walking away was the hardest part.

Getting the hell out of the hallway wasn't quite far enough for him to rein himself in. He had to leave the confines of the school building just to breathe again. The anger, though, it was still there, it was always there. The only place he could find solace from it was sitting in the Jeep, phone pressed to his ear.

"Pick up," He willed the phone, listening to it ring. "Please, pick up."

_"Yeah?"_

"Jax," Stiles relaxed, hearing his brother's voice filter over the line. "Are you busy?"

_"I've got time for you. What's wrong?"_

"I'm overreacting," He seemed to be doing that a lot lately over the smallest of things. "Some kid shoved me into the lockers and said something."

_"You kick his ass?"_

"You know I can't do that shit here," Beacon Hills didn't have the same rules as Charming. "He would've walked, I would've gotten popped for assault. If Dad tried to claim it was self-defense, the kid’s family of high-priced lawyers would say Dad has a conflict of interest and shit would just escalate from there."

_"You want me to come get you?"_

"No, I can't leave," He had to tough it out. "I'm Juice's ride."

_"He watching your back?"_

"We've got different class schedules," They only saw each other in Finstock's class and at lunch. "Just talk to me. Doesn't matter about what, just talk."

_"Think I found a bike for you today, it needs a lot of work though."_

"Oh yeah?" Stiles was perfectly happy with his car, but he welcomed a project he could share with his brother. "You going to help me get it going?"

_"No, I was going to make you do it all by yourself."_

"You'll help me," Not that Stiles ever had any doubts. "You know I'll probably never ride it though, right?"

_"It's a rite of passage just to get one going."_

"It's a Teller rite of passage," One Stiles would gladly complete with him. "I'll have to think of Stilinski one to have you do."

_"Well, when you've got one let me know."_

"I miss you," Stiles hated how small he sounded, how weak, but he couldn't help it. "I know that sounds stupid, 'cause we'll see each other later, but whenever shit gets bad here, I just...I wish you were here."

_"I can come up."_

"That's not a good idea," As much as Stiles would love to have his brother close, Jax and Beacon Hills had the potential to be an explosive combination. "I'll be there after school, well, after I take Juice to the store to pick up a few things."

_"I should be home by dinner, unless you need me there sooner."_

"No, I'll see you at dinner," Stiles didn't want to mess with Jax's plans for the day. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

_"Shut up. You're not fucking bothering me."_

"I should probably go," He was calm enough to go back inside and face the rest of the student body. "I'm missing a class right now."

_"Can't have that."_

"I'll see you at dinner."

_"See you later, kid. Call me if you need me."_

"I will."

* * *

 

Math was one of very few subjects in school that Juice actually enjoyed; it came easy to him, like computers. Numbers were simple and the problems usually had clear-cut answers, either right or wrong, no in between. At his old school in Queens, it was the only class he had done well in, but it wasn't something he had been proud of at the time.

At Beacon Hills High, he shared calculus with a bunch of overachievers, like Lydia Martin, who thought a simple algebra problem was worthy of a hair flip and a smug smile.

"It's the quadratic formula not P vs. NP," Juice snarked at the girl as she made her way back to her own seat. "Get over yourself."

"P vs. NP?" Kira inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a computer science problem," Juice had come across it in a book once and it had piqued his interest. "Notorious for being unsolved."

"Hey, dude," The kid who sat on the other side of him dropped a slip of paper on his desk. "McCall asked me to give that to you."

"Great," Juice sighed, unfolding the note that had been passed to him. "What the hell is this?"

The note was actually a printout of a newspaper article dated from the previous year, the headline **'Local Teen Killed by Sheriff's Son.'** Stiles mug shot sat side-by-side in comparison to the candid of a dark haired kid a little older than them, the victim if the caption was to be believed. The text surrounding the photographs didn't paint a prettier picture, summarizing the ‘ _shocking act of violence’_ that had ‘ _left the community shaken'_.

What really stood out against the black and white article was the bright red marker ink scrawled crudely at the bottom of the page, ‘ _I told you he was dangerous’_.

* * *

 

Jax had spent a good portion of his youth doing whatever he could to avoid Charming High School. When he and Opie had gotten kicked out during sophomore year, he'd taken it as a personal achievement. Jax had held his head high when the cops had led them out, taking great joy in knowing he'd never have to return to that shithole.

Flash forward almost twenty years, Jax strutted through the halls like he was still king of the castle. He'd left his kutte in the truck, the least he could do to stay under the radar. He wasn't there for club business, it was a personal matter that brought him to his old stomping grounds.

"Hey, teach," Jax grinned, sauntering into a classroom that was empty save for the woman sitting behind the desk. "Students at lunch?"

"Yes, thank God," Donna muttered, raking her hands through her hair. "What are you doing here? More importantly, what are you doing here on my lunch hour without food?"

"I'll buy you and the kids dinner this weekend," If he remembered to anyway. "I need to talk to you about something."

"And you came to my place of work in the middle of the day to do it," Donna pursed her lips. "Must be bad."

"You happy here?" Jax asked, pulling up a chair to sit across from her. "At this school, I mean. You like working here?"

"Working at the same school I graduated from? Yeah, it's a real thrill," Donna rolled her eyes. "Why?"

"How would you feel about transferring to teach at Beacon Hills High for the remainder of the school year?"

"If I were to entertain that idea, there would have to be an opening at the school," Donna clasped her hands together on the desk. "I haven’t seen any job postings out of there lately, not that I've been looking."

"If you would be willing to move to Beacon Hills, temporarily," Jax had no intention of it being a permanent situation. "I can guarantee a position will be made available for you."

"You can guarantee that, huh?" Donna raised a brow. "How are you going to do that?"

"One the current staff members will be encouraged to take a vacation," Jax could be very convincing when he wanted to be. "A very long vacation."

"Which one?"

"The chemistry teacher," No one was going to ask questions if that asshole just happened to disappear. "You know, the one Stiles hates."

"I don't teach chemistry," Donna gestured around the room. "You see any beakers or chemicals in here? This is an English class."

"Work with me here," Jax didn't have time to scope out another teacher. "I've already got this one’s number."

"So the teacher Stiles hates suddenly goes missing and is replaced by Stiles pseudo-sister-in-law," Donna pointed to herself. "You don't think that's going to look suspicious?"

"Well, you're not his real sister-in-law, so the connections a little hazy."

"I think you're a little hazy," Donna snorted derisively. "Why do you want me in Beacon Hills?"

"Stiles called me from school earlier, he was upset," Jax hated hearing his brother sound so sad and dejected. "Some kids are giving him shit. He won't stand up for himself there and I know the teachers are pretty much useless when it comes to their anti-bully policy."

"So you want me there to keep those rich little fuckers in check," Donna deduced easily. "I would love to get the hell out of Charming for a while, but do you realize how expensive Beacon Hills is to live in? I can barely afford to live here as it is."

"I can figure that out," For Stiles, Jax could find the money. "Would you do it if I could find you a place to live?"

"Not if the vacation you're going to send that teacher on is one he won't be coming back from," Donna narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll do anything for Stiles, you know that, but I don't want to be an accessory to anything."

"You won't be."

"I don't believe you."

"Just let me handle this, okay?" Jax could get things done with minimal bloodshed. “If a teaching position opens up at Beacon Hills High, would you take it?”

“I could put in an application,” Donna proposed. “That doesn’t mean they’ll hire me.”

“I’ll take care of that too,” It was just one more thing to add to his ever-growing list. “I’ll convince the school board or the principal or whoever the hell I need to convince to hire you.”

“Jackson, it’s very sweet that you want someone to look out for baby brother,” Donna smiled, albeit a bit condescendingly. “But have you thought about how he’s going to feel about this? Stiles doesn’t like being coddled.”

“He likes you,” Jax figured that alone could smooth things over. “I’ll just tell him you are there to keep an eye on Juice.”

“He’ll call bullshit in two seconds flat,” Donna chortled. “You could try being honest, that’s usually the best route to take where he’s concerned.”

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

 

When searching for anything computer related cheaper wasn't necessarily better. However, when you lived on a budget, sometimes you had to take what you could get and make the most of it. It was that line of thinking that led Stiles to the discount electronic store in Stockton to begin with, he needed to upgrade his system without completely draining his savings.

Juice was a self-professed computer guy, a hacker. He seemed most in his element with a keyboard beneath his fingers and a screen in front of him. It stood to reason that if he was ever going to feel at home with them, he needed something familiar to him, which was where the electronic store came in.

"I don't come in to Stockton much, so I've only been in here, like, once," Stiles said as they stepped through the automatic doors into the store. "I have no idea if any of this is what you'd be looking for."

"I guess we'll find out..." Juice trailed off as his eyes caught on the merchandise displays. "W-We're in the right place. Go get a cart."

"You sure we'll need a cart?" Stiles couldn't imagine they'd walk away with that much. "You know this is a discount store, right? You'll probably want to be careful with what you buy--"

"I know what I'm doing," Juice groused, waving a hand toward the rows of carts. "Cart. Now. Go. Please."

"Yes, sir."

Stiles moved to grab a cart, as instructed, but when he turned back around he was alone. He laughed to himself as he set off down the aisles, searching for where the other boy had wandered off to in a hurry. He found him four aisles and two rows down, staring awe-struck at the components he had come across.

"You move pretty quickly when you want to," Stiles tutted, pushing the cart down the aisle to join him. "Find anything good?"

"Do you know what this is?" Juice snatched a computer processor off the shelf. "Do you know what I could do with this?"

"Ye--"

"No, of course you don't, I've used your Mac," Juice winced sympathetically. "You have no idea what you could do with this kind of power."

"I'm not getting into a Mac vs. Windows debate with you," Especially since Stiles was not the one who bought his computer, it had been a gift from his dad who wasn't exactly technologically inclined. "Instead of trying to insult me through my hardware, you could teach me a thing or two."

"Oh, I'm sure I could." Juice smirked, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I didn't mean for that to sound like a come-on."

"That's too bad."

"About computers," Juice said sheepishly. "I meant that I could teach you something _**about computers**_."

"Oh, I know what you meant," Stiles would take what he could get. "So, teach me, oh, wise one."

"I will," Juice promised, a saucy grin on his face. "If you think you can keep up."

"I guess we'll find out."

* * *

 

John had set aside time to make the phone call to Juan Carlos's mother, one where he wouldn't be interrupted. He had holed himself up in his office, given his deputies orders not to bother him unless there was an emergency they could not handle on his own, and dialed the number in his phone. It wasn't until he was listening to it ring that a strange kind of nervousness swept over him.

_"Hello?"_

"Yes, hello, my name is Sheriff John Stilinski of the Beacon Hills County Sheriff's department," He introduced himself professionally, the only way he knew how to at this point. "I'm calling to speak with Mrs. Antonia Ortiz."

_"I-I'm Antonia Ortiz. Is this...is this about my son? Is this about my Juan Carlos?"_

"Yes, ma'am, it is," He wondered how long she had been waiting for a call, any call that would tell her where her boy was. "He's all right. He's safe."

_"Is he under arrest?"_

"No, ma'am," John hoped that would put her at ease. "He's not in jail or hurt in anyway. He's safe."

_"W-Where is he?"_

"We're in northern California, a small town called Beacon Hills," For all its troubles, Beacon Hills was almost like one of California's best kept secrets, a place not many people had ever heard of let alone visited. "About two months ago, your son popped up in a town called Charming, it's about two-hours south of here. He was in pretty bad shape."

_"You don't have to sugar coat it, Sheriff. I know my son is an addict, he has been since he was twelve."_

"He's been clean for a month and half, give or take a few days," He wasn't sure if that would bring her any comfort or soothe her worry, but felt it needed to be said anyway. "He's been attending school, has a part time job. He's doing well."

_"He's in school?"_

"Yes," John would leave out the part about Juice's plan to quit once he turned eighteen. "He's having some trouble in chemistry, but seems to be breezing through the rest of his classes."

_"He always did so well in school. It was only when he decided it wasn't going to get him anywhere that his grades started to slip."_

"It took some convincing to get him there," Luckily, John wasn't the one who had to do the convincing. "In the end he only agreed so he could look after my son."

_"Your son?"_

"My son, Stiles, they met in Charming, while Stiles was visiting his half-brother," The details of all that could be addressed later. "They're the same age. They’ve become pretty good friends over the last few weeks."

_"Juan Carlos never had much trouble making friends."_

"Stiles has," John thought Stiles preferred it that way. "Juan Carlos has been staying with us recently. I didn't feel comfortable letting a teenager live on his own."

_"He's living with you?"_

"Yes, ma'am," Sheriff or not, he could understand any parents trepidation about their child living with a stranger. "I should have called you as soon as he showed up in Charming, I know that both as a father and an officer of the law, but he was scared, and we were afraid he might bolt. If he had left then...well, I'm not sure how far he would have gotten. I'm only comfortable calling you now because he gave me permission."

_"He...He wanted you to call me? Really?"_

"He wanted you to know he was all right," The kid might not have said it outright, but John was certain that was the only reason he'd given him the okay to place the call. "He didn't want you to worry."

_"That's not possible."_

"The worry starts before they even come into the world and it doesn't stop," It grew, it changed, but it was always there. "I know you probably want me to put Juan Carlos on a bus home or to come get him yourself, and I know you've got no reason to trust me or my opinion, but... I really think you should talk to him before you make any decisions about him coming home."

_"Is he there? May I speak with him?"_

"He's not here at the moment," He should have been on his way to work or to Charming at least. "I can give you his cellphone number, you can give him a call yourself."

_"Please."_

“Mrs. Ortiz, I know it’s not my place,” John just felt like he had to say something. “Juan Carlos has obviously had his troubles, he’s struggled, but he’s got a good heart. You’ve got a good kid there.”

“ _He’s the sweetest boy you’ll ever meet, my Juan Carlos, but he was born with sadness he’s never been able to shake.”_

“Maybe he doesn’t need to shake it,” There were some kinds of sadness that just didn’t go away. “He just has to learn to carry it, so it stops crushing him.”

* * *

 

The electronic store had been a nice distraction from the rest of the day. Juice may have gone a little suburban-mom-at-a-black-Friday-sale, he would cop to that that, but once they were back in the car the fog had lifted. The anxiety that he'd carried with him since calculus class returned full force and he knew if he wanted to have the conversation causing it, he would have to do it before they got to Charming.

"So, um," Juice shifted uncomfortably on the bench seat. "That guy, uh, Scott? He slipped me something at school."

"Something?" Stiles quirked a brow, not taking his eyes off the road. "Can you be more specific?"

"A newspaper article," The printout was hidden deep in Juice's backpack beneath his schoolbooks. "About you and some guy named Donovan."

"About me killing a guy named Donovan," Stiles twitched, fingers flexing over the steering wheel. "Donovan Donati."

"Yeah," Juice hadn't read the article, not in its entirety, wanting to speak to Stiles about it first. "Look, I'm not going to ask--"

"Wouldn't blame you if you did," Stiles said, clearing his throat. "It's kind of a big deal. Killing someone."

"I know it is," Juice knew that better than anyone. "It changes the way people look at you. It changes the way you look at yourself."

"Yes, it does," Stiles glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not going to ask either."

"You don't have to," Juice had a feeling Stiles would understand what he had done. "I killed my dad."

"Your dad?"

"Stepdad, technically, but..." Still the only dad Juice had ever known. "I'd just done a three month stint in juvie for possession. No one was there to pick me up when I got out, so I went to the basketball courts to score. It was still pretty early in the evening when I got home, but the house was dark and quiet, at least from the outside. Strange, you know? A house full of kids and it was so fucking quiet."

Juice learned later that his mother had sent his siblings out earlier in the day with instructions not to return until she'd come calling for them. Ray had been out with his girlfriend Roxanne, Marianna at a party on the other side of town, Marisol and Angelo covering shifts at the family diner, and little Felix down the street playing at a friend's house. Juice was the anomaly, the one everyone forgot would be home that day.

"It wasn't until I was on the front porch that I heard crying and glass breaking," Those sounds still haunted his nightmares when he closed his eyes at night. "Anyone else might've thought someone had broken in, but I knew it meant Dad must have had a bad day and too much to drink."

His stepfather was laughably cliché. An abusive alcoholic taking his anger out on his family because his life didn't live up to his expectations. Sometimes Juice took solace in knowing there was no blood between them, hoping that meant he could avoid turning into that kind of man.

"I got inside and I saw that he had my mom pinned against the wall, his hands around her throat," To this day Juice still couldn't remember exactly what happened after that. "I guess I sort of blacked out, because the next thing I knew he was on the floor and I was on top of him, beating the hell out of him. My mom was trying to pull me away, pull me off him before I took it too far but...it was too late for that."

When he had fully come back to himself, his hands were dripping with blood and his stepfather wasn't moving or breathing. His mother had tried to give him CPR, but it was useless, he was already gone.

"I don't regret what I did," He would do it again in a heartbeat it if meant protecting his mother. "But I still feel guilty."

"I get that, I do," Stiles admitted, nodding his head. "Donovan, he had this grudge against my dad. His dad and my dad were partners on the force, before my dad was sheriff. There was a bank robbery, my dad was calling for back up, Deputy Donati didn't want to wait. He went in half-cocked, without knowing how many perps were inside or what they were armed with. He got hurt, paralyzed, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life."

"Donovan blamed your dad."

"He blamed my dad because his dad was a shitty cop who could have gotten them both killed," Stiles sneered, glaring out the windshield to the traffic in front of them. "He let his anger fester for a while, but eventually he started threatening my dad. Threatening his career and his life, and then he decided the best way to get to my dad was through me."

"Makes sense," If you really wanted to hurt someone, you went after the person they loved the most. "He attacked you?"

"He stalked me for weeks. He sat outside our house, the school. He even followed me to Charming and parked outside the garage and Jax's place," Stiles tensed, gripping the steering wheel to anchor himself. "I kept waiting for him to make a move. It was the waiting that made me paranoid. I was jumping at fucking shadows by the time I'd finally had enough."

"What did you do when you had enough?"

"I wasn't planning to hurt him. I just wanted to have a conversation. I knew he wouldn't agree to that so I had to set it up," Stiles fumed, still angry over the circumstances. "I fucked with his car, made sure it would break down while he was tailing me. I hoped it would do it on the way home from Charming, but before we made it to Beacon Hills."

"No such luck, huh?" Cars were tricky sometimes, couldn't always predict when they would or would not work.

"He overheated and stalled out right in front of the veterinary clinic, where Scott happens to work," Stiles huffed, shaking his head. "It was late, though, no one should have been around. And, you know, I didn't plan to hurt him, but I wasn't going to let him hurt me either. I had a wrench from my tool kit on the seat, just in case something happened."

"And something did happen."

"I barely got out of the Jeep before he was on me, I guess he'd had enough waiting too," Stiles muttered, swallowing thickly. "I'm not really a brawler, I'd never really been in a fight. So I grabbed the wrench to defend myself. By the time I was done...defending myself...it looked like a scene out of _The Walking Dead_."

Juice kept himself still, motionless, afraid any movement would spook the other boy into silence. He wouldn't push him to say more than he was comfortable with, but he wouldn't stop him from saying something he so obviously needed to get off his chest.

"Scott was working late that night, he did that sometimes when Dr. Deaton was out of town. He came outside, saw me holding a wrench soaked in blood and brain matter, saw Donovan on the ground," Stiles continued, breath hitching. "He made his own assumptions about what happened. Nothing I said was going to change what I did, so I didn't say anything. The newspapers omitted a lot of the details. They reported that I had brutally murdered another kid, but left out my motive or any reasoning really, so people just decided I had done it in cold blood."

"If you had done it in cold blood, you'd be in jail," Juice doubted being the sheriff's son could save him from a murder charge. "That had to have come out in trial."

"There was no trial. The veterinary clinic had surveillance cameras outside, it recorded the whole thing," Stiles confessed, gnawing on his bottom lip agitatedly. "The DA saw that Donovan attacked me first and an outside investigator confirmed that Donovan had been stalking me. The court declined to press charges, but I’m a minor, so the details were kept from the public."

"So the kids are your school don't know what really happened," That explained all the rumors and shit talk going on at that hellhole. "They just think you went nuts and beat another kid to death."

"I didn't really help dispel that rumor when I cracked up," Stiles sighed, pulling at loose strands of his hair. "A couple weeks after I killed Donovan, I went back to school, against my father's wishes. Some of the other kids were afraid of me, avoided me in the halls and all that, but other kids were...fucking awful."

"Still are."

"I lasted until lunch that first day. In the cafeteria, I tried to sit with Scott, believing my best friend since childhood couldn't possibly believe the shit people were spewing, but I was wrong. He didn't say anything, just switched tables. That sort of prompted some of the other kids to snicker, whisper things under their breath, and some outright called me a psycho," Stiles growled at thoughts of that day. "I don't know what the hell happened. I think I must have channeled Jax, because what happened next is only something he would have done."

"What happened next?"

"I just... I went off. I found the loudest heckler and slammed his head against the lunch table, yelled that if they wanted a psycho, I'd show them one," Stiles recalled, chuckling darkly. "His buddy got up to avenge his honor or something, and things got a little blurry after that. Fists were flying and I am pretty sure I hit a teacher with my lunch tray. The cops were called and I think I might've assaulted a few of my dad's deputies before they got me on the ground and cuffed me."

"Your dad didn't show up?" That didn't sound like the John that Juice had gotten to know, though to be fair, he hadn't known him very long.

"He was on a call out in the preserve, by the time he made it back into town, I was in the hospital under heavy sedation," Stiles cringed at the memory. "The shrink said that I was suffering from some kind of PTSD or something and that jail wasn't going to help me. Instead of jail, I was committed to Eichen House."

"The local loony bin," Which connected the dots between Stiles and Malia. "Malia said that's where she met you."

"Yeah, I got lucky meeting her there. It made things less lonely," Stiles smiled sadly. "Look, um, the only people in Charming who know about all that are Piney, Donna, and maybe Gemma. My brother, the other guys, they don't know shit and I'd like to keep it that way."

"How do they not know?" The thing with Donovan could probably be kept under wraps if the circumstances were right, but Juice had no idea how Stiles could have managed to keep the loony bin thing from Jax or the club. "Where did they think you were when you were...committed?"

"Back east visiting relatives," Stiles revealed. "It's not that I don't trust Jax or the guys, it's just...they're delicate."

"Delicate?" Not the word Juice would use to describe them, but whatever. "What do you think they would do?"

"I don't know," Stiles scratched the side of his head. "They'd get mad because I didn't say anything or ask for help. They'd praise how I handled it. Get pissed about how I reacted to how I handled it. It'd just...it's just easier if they don't know."

"I don't know Jax or his friends that well," Juice had zero authority to speak on their behalf. "But I've sort of picked up on how worried your brother's been about you. I don't think that worry is going to go away unless you tell him what you've been through. He's not stupid, he knows something happened to you, something bad."

"I know," Stiles mumbled sullenly. "I just don't want him to..."

"To look at you different," Juice had no leg to stand on in that argument, to the best of his knowledge his siblings had no idea what he had done either. "Maybe you're not giving him enough credit."

"Maybe.”

* * *

 

Donna didn't travel to Beacon Hills often, once every few years if Stiles really needed her. The last time she'd made the trip, it was to visit Stiles in a psychiatric hospital, something she thought she would never have to do and hoped she would never have to do again. This time, though, it was Jax, not Stiles, that prompted her to make the drive and landed her in John Stilinski's office.

"Donna," John addressed her with a soft tone, kid gloves. "What's wrong?"

"It's possible I'm overreacting," She was taking the better-safe-than-sorry stance, just in case she was wrong. "I think Jax is going to do something stupid."

"Can you be more specific?" John asked, tracking her as she paced back and forth. "'Something stupid' is pretty on point for nearly all of Jax's decisions."

"That's true," _Jax_ and _stupid decisions_ were almost synonymous with each other. "Well, it's not a club thing."

"If it was, you wouldn't have come to me."

"Jax wants me to move up here temporarily to take a job at Stiles school," Donna wasn't against the idea, so to speak, she just wasn’t onboard with his plan to get her there. "A job he will guarantee me by knocking off one of Stiles teachers."

"Which teacher?" John questioned before thinking better of it. "No. That shouldn't matter. Uh..."

"The chemistry teacher."

"You don't teach chemistry," John noted. "Stiles doesn't take chemistry."

"That wasn't really my biggest concern," The murder thing was high on her list, though. "I don't think it's a good idea for Jax to start killing Stiles teachers."

"Did he say he was going to kill a teacher?" John inquired, tilting his head to the side. "Was that his wording?"

"He said he was going to _**encourage**_ the guy to take a very long vacation," She had used her long history with the club to make an educated guess about what he had really meant. "You know SAMCRO, you know what it means."

"Right," John nodded, exhaling loudly. "He wants you up here bad enough to resort to murder. Something going on in Charming I should know about? If it's too dangerous for you, it is too dangerous for the boys--"

"He wants me here to look after Stiles while he's at school," As much as Donna would love to get her kids the hell out of Charming, she would have preferred to do it without any goddamn bloodshed. "Something happened there today. Stiles called Jax. Jax's big brother instincts went in to overdrive."

"Stiles hasn't said anything to me," John murmured somberly. "He keeps a lot to himself about school, doesn't want me to worry."

"If there is something I can do to help Stiles, I will do it, no questions asked," She loved Stiles like he was her flesh and blood, there's nothing she wouldn't do for him. "But I don't think this is the way. If there was a teaching position available, I'd take it, absolutely, but there are alternatives to Jax killing an innocent man."

"The chemistry teacher, Harris, he's not innocent, but he doesn't deserve to die to give Jax peace of mind," John reasoned, shuffling the stack of papers on his desk absently. "What alternatives to do you have in mind?"

"You hired a tutor for Stiles when he got out of the hospital," It was all that could be done to help get him caught up on all the school he had missed while committed. "I could home school the boys, him and Juice. I'd have to do it at my place after work a couple days a week or on the weekends."

"I appreciate the offer, I really do, and I will consider it, but in the end it's not entirely my decision," John sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Stiles is trying like to hell to stand on his own two feet, to trust himself again. He's never going to be able to do that if we keep making decisions for him out of fear."

"Stiles has always been self-aware," It had been both a blessing and a curse at times. "He knows how much he can take, but that doesn't mean he won't try to tough it out anyway."

"If Stiles is in immediate danger, I will pull him out of school," John vowed, voice heavy with conviction. "He might not say anything himself, but Juice is with him now. If he sees something, he will tell me. He cares about Stiles."

"You sure?" Donna hadn't spent enough time with the other boy to make heads or tails of him. "They haven't known each other very long."

"Stiles was honest with him about why the club would help him even though they didn't know him, that built a lot of trust between them in a small amount of time," A fond smile tugged at the corner of John's lips. "And Piney put Juice in that school to protect Stiles, to look after him. Jax might not trust him to do that, but I believe he would come to me or Piney if he saw Stiles needed help."

"Should we at least talk to them about it? Let them know the choice is there?"

"I'll talk to them about it."

"Okay. Good."

* * *

 

Jax expected to come home to the boys sprawled out on the couch, playing video games or watching something they were probably too young to see. That's what he had done as a teenager, that's what his friends had done at that age, he was sure that's what all teenagers did, it was a rule or something, of course, Stiles always seemed to take great pride in being the exception to any rule. He wasn't listening to music too loud or binging on junk food when Jax came in, he was sitting at the neatly set kitchen table, ready for a nice family dinner and not the quick meal Jax had been prepared for.

"Even when I show up for dinner on time you somehow start without me," Jax quipped, dropping his keys on the kitchen counter. "It's nice to see you've got your appetite back, though."

"I skipped lunch," Stiles shrugged, shoveling more food into his mouth. "I think I might've ordered too much, but I thought we’d need more since there’s three of us now.”

"It's better to have too much than too little," Plus, Jax was starving, the kids would be lucky if there was any left by the time he was finished. "Where's Juice? Wasn't he supposed to be here on weekends now?"

"He's in my room playing with himself," Stiles snorted, twirling his chopsticks. "Playing with his computer stuff, actually, but he was practically drooling at the store, so..."

"Yeah, I heard you took Juice to some computer store," Jax would have preferred that Stiles not go to places like Stockton or Oakland without a club escort, but that wasn't a battle he had won since the kid had gotten his driver's license. "How'd that go?"

"Remember when you took me to _Circus Circus_?" Stiles asked, scrunching up his face. "It was a lot like that."

"That bad, huh?" Jax whistled, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Are you allowed back in this store? 'Cause we're no longer welcome at _Circus Circus_."

"Give me a break, man," Stiles grumbled, scowling up at him. "I was five-years-old and hopped up on pixy stixs."

"I'll never forgive Piney for sneaking you that fucking candy…" The old man had loaded the kid up with all sorts of sugary goodies before they'd left for Vegas just to spite Jax. "You didn't answer my question. Are you permanently banned from the store? Do you need me to call in a favor?"

"No, Juice is slightly more well-behaved than five-year-old me," Stiles acknowledged, pushing cartons of food across the table. "You going to eat something?"

"I was planning on it," Jax popped the cap on his beer and dropped into an open chair. "Juice already eat?"

"A little, but I put some away for him in case he wants more," Stiles gestured toward the microwave. "Um, is Wendy coming over tonight?"

"I don't think so," Although she had a habit of showing up uninvited, not that Jax was going to complain about it. "Why?"

"You going back to the clubhouse?"

"Not unless they call me in for something," Jax could skip the Friday night party. "What's going on, kid?"

"I thought, um, I thought we could talk," Stiles gulped, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "I-I, uh, I d-don't like keeping things from you."

"I don't like you keeping shit from me either," Jax took a swig from his beer and gave his brother his full attention. "Why'd you decide to share tonight? This about what happened at school today?"

"What happened at school today happens at school every day," Stiles bristled, annoyed to be reminded by the day’s events. "I've wanted to tell you what's happened since it happened, I just...I needed there to be time, so you couldn't..."

"So I couldn't what?"

"You would have tried to fix it," Stiles mumbled, setting his chopsticks down on the table. "When you found out that what I did fixed it, you would have gotten mad that I didn't come to you for help sooner. I didn't want you to be mad at me."

"I'm not going to get mad," He couldn't get mad when he was already there, but it wasn't directed at Stiles in any way, just the unknown situation in general. "I guess what happened didn't just happen, did it? There was a lead up to it?"

"Yeah, there was," Stiles nodded, his body beginning to tremble. "I can take care of myself, Jax, you know that right? That's what I did. I took care of myself. I protected myself. I protected my dad. I protected my family. That's all I did."

"Nothing should come between you and protecting your family," That is what Jax had been raised to believe, what his mother had taught him. "Whatever you did--"

"And maybe...maybe it didn't happen exactly how I remember it. Maybe my mind fixed it. That happens, right? Minds can do that?" Stiles questioned, looking at him with wild, wide amber eyes. "And what if it wasn't how I remembered it? Does it really matter? I did what I had to do. He was going to hurt me. He was going to hurt my dad. He would have hurt you too. He was here, he was outside this house."

"Who was outside?"

"So maybe I...maybe I-I didn't just want to talk to him that night," Stiles stammered, foot tapping nervously on the floor. "I think...I think I might have...I might have kept the wrench close b-because I was always going to do what I did. It wasn't for self-defense."

"Stiles," Jax reached across the table to cover his brother's shaking hands with his own, hoping to calm him down. "It's okay."

"Morrell was right. It wasn't random, it was targeted," The color drained from Stiles face and he wrenched his hands away from Jax's, seeming to have had some sort of startling revelation. "I targeted him. I-I targeted him because he targeted us."

"Stiles, it's okay."

"How is that okay?"

“It just is.”

* * *

 

The Teller house had thin walls, the kind that allowed you to hear just about anything from any corner of the place. Juice picked up snippets of Stiles and Jax's conversation from Stiles bedroom, but did his best to respect their privacy and tune them out. He focused on the computer he planned to start building with the parts he'd purchased, and let everything else fade away. It was a plan that worked beautifully, up until his new cellphone began vibrating on the table.

The number on the caller ID wasn't one that Stiles had programmed into the phone earlier in the day, but it was one Juice had memorized at his parents insistence when he was child. It was a call he had been waiting for since John had gotten a hold of him that afternoon to let him know he had shared the number with his mother. The choice to accept or decline the call wasn't difficult to make when the number was flashing across his screen.

"Okay, okay," He took a deep breath as he slid his thumb across the green ' _answer_ ' button and brought the phone to his ear. "M-Mama?"

_"It's so good to hear your voice, baby."_

"I miss you," He hadn't realized just how much he had missed her until that moment. "I really miss you, Mom."

_"I miss you so much, my baby."_

"I'm sorry," He knew he'd put her through hell, caused her more than her fair share amount of stress. "I'm sorry for everything."

_"Are you safe? Don't lie to me, Juan Carlos, tell me the truth. Are you safe?"_

"Yeah. Yes. I am. I’m safe," His time was being split between a sheriff's home and a bikers den, but it was still the safest he had felt in years. "I promise. I'm okay. Good even."

_"That man, uh, Sheriff Stilinski, he said you were back in school."_

"Just for a little while," Come November he would be a dropout once again. "It's going good, though. The classes aren't that hard and I've got a couple of friends, Stilinski's son, Stiles, and two girls, Kira and Malia."

_"Please tell me you're using protection. You're seventeen, you shouldn't be getting anyone pregnant."_

"I'm not getting anyone pregnant. I'm not having sex with Kira or Malia," While it was true, in the past, he had been pretty loose where sex was concerned, giving it away to anyone willing to do it with him, but as of late he was celibate, although he hoped that wouldn’t last long. "You're one to talk. You and Dad had Ray when you were younger than me."

_"You're supposed to learn from our mistakes-- Not that your brother was a mistake."_

"Right. He was a _surprise_ ," A nicer word for mistake. "You don't have to worry about me making you a grandmother anytime soon, okay? I'm not having sex with anyone."

_"I just want you to be safe, Juan Carlos, in whatever you do."_

"I am safe," He hadn't always been, but he was giving it a shot. "And, um, I know this doesn't mean much anymore, but I'm not using drugs. I kicked it, you know, again."

_"Sheriff Stilinski mentioned it. How's that going?"_

"Okay, I guess," He woke up every morning with the urge to use and had to talk himself out of going to score multiple times a day, but he hadn't relapsed yet, that was all that mattered. "John, uh, Sheriff Stilinski, he wants me to think about going to NA meetings."

_"That sounds like a good idea."_

"Are you going to make me come home?" Any further talk of his recovery would be pointless if he ended up back in Queens. "'Cause I'll come home if you want me to. I'll do whatever you want, but I..."

_"What do you want, baby?"_

"Does it matter?" He was the child, she was the parent, and his decision-making skills up to that point were spotty at best. "I think I've proved that my life choices suck."

_"You've been there two months and you're clean, back in school, and you have a job."_

"None of that was really my choice," He had sort of been going along with what everyone else was telling him to do. "Except the job. I wanted to earn my place here. I didn't want charity."

_"I want you home with me, baby, I always do, but not if you don't want to be here. You weren't happy here. You ran away for a reason."_

"I didn't runaway," His eldest sister had sent him away, had bought him a bus ticket, drove him to the station, and told him to go. "I just had to be somewhere else, Mama. I didn't... Home never felt... I couldn't breathe there."

_"Can you breathe where you are now?"_

"Yeah, I-I think so," It was still a struggle some days, but it was easier there. "There's no pressure here, no judgment. I can be someone else here."

_"You want to stay."_

"I know I'm a piece of shit, Mom. I've put you through ten kinds of hell. I've done things you can't forgive," He had done things he would never forgive himself. "I just don't want to make you sad anymore."

_"Juan Carlos..."_

"You're happier without me there, aren't you?" So long as he stayed away, he would no longer be a burden she would have to carry. "You all are, right? You don't have to worry about finding dirty needles in jacket pockets or waiting for the police to pick me up or a phone call from the hospital or the morgue telling you I've OD'd or been found dead. You guys can be a happy family again."

_"You left without a word. We had no idea where you were or if you'd be coming home. I didn't know if you were alive o-or...-- So, no, Juan Carlos, we haven't been happier. We jump every time the phone rings or someone knocks on the door. Happiness is not something anyone in this house has felt in a very long time."_

"I'm sorry, Mama," Guilt clawed at his throat, threatening to rip him to shreds. "That's what I don't want. I don't want you to worry about me anymore."

_"I will worry about you and your brothers and sisters until the day I am dead and buried no matter how healthy or happy you are."_

"I'm sorry." What else could do besides apologizes over and over again? "What do you want me to do?"

_"I want you to come home, to be with your family, to let us help you."_

"You can't help me," If there was anything he had learned from their previous attempts to clean him up and straighten him out, it was that it didn't work there. "We've tried, Mama, so many times. I don't why, it just... it's not right there."

_"It's right with strangers?"_

"I can't explain it, Mom," He didn't fully understand it himself. "They're not better than you guys, they're just different."

_"I don't know these people, Juan Carlos. The man you're living with is a policeman, but that doesn't mean he's a good man."_

"He's good," Juice's superstitious great aunt Isabela would say that John was the kind of man that gave off good vibes, exuded calm energies, had a nice aura. "What can I do to make you see that I'll be okay here?"

_"You can call me, regularly."_

"I can do that," That was easy enough. "Maybe Angelo could set up Skype for you, so we can video chat."

_"So I can actually see you? Yes. We need to do that regularly as well."_

"Okay," Juice would have to borrow Stiles computer for that until he got his own up and running. "What else?"

_"I'll want to keep in touch with Sheriff Stilinski too. One phone is not enough to make much of an impression. And he and I should talk about rules and such."_

"Okay," He had no complaints or protests about that. "Is that it?"

_"I want to come out there. I want to see how you're living, to see for myself that you're really okay."_

"Um, okay," He wanted to see her too, but he couldn't deny the idea made him anxious. "W-When?"

_"Soon. I just need to make sure your brothers and sisters won't burn down the house or the diner while I’m gone."_

"You're not going to tell them, are you?" The thought of his siblings knowing anything about where he was or what he was doing made him want to pack his bags and disappear all over again, this time on his volition. "C-Can't you just tell them I'm okay? Do they have to know where I am?"

_"They're just as worried about you as I am, baby."_

"No, they're not," He had only ever caused them problems, why the hell would they worried about him? "Please, Mama. Don't tell them I'm in California."

_"I suppose they don't need to know, not now anyway."_

"Thank you," Juice loved his brothers and sisters, but they had never hidden their disapproval from him and he wasn’t sure he could handle that just yet. "H-How are they? Is everyone doing all right?"

_"They're fine. Ray and Roxanne are looking at buying their own house. Marisol is doing well in her residency at the hospital. Marianna is on probation for the next six months, she assaulted her boss after he said she had a bad attitude. Felix has been getting bullied at school, so Angelo's been teaching him how to box."_

"So not much has changed," Everything was just the same as it ever was, except there was one family member missing. "And Dad? Have the cops--"

_"They haven't found him. He's still listed as a missing person."_

"Okay," He supposed that should have come as a relief. "Do you... Do you think it-it would have been better if you had just turned me in?"

_"No. You saved my life, Juan Carlos. I was going to risk them putting you away for that."_

"They might have let me go," However, with his record, his history, the cops probably would have locked him up and thrown away the key. "With the right lawyer--"

_"You were defending me, but there wasn't a scratch on you. We couldn't take the chance of them thinking we lied, that you had done what you did for no reason at all. They would have charged you as an adult and put you away for the rest of your life. I wasn't going to risk you like that, baby."_

"Have you told anyone else?" Juice had made the choice to tell Stiles, he wondered if his mother had done the same with anyone. "Does the family know?"

_"No. No one knows. It's better that way."_

"Okay."

_"If I could change that day I would, Juan Carlos. You never should have had to do something like that for me. I should have been able to protect you from that."_

"I'd do anything to protect you."


	5. in my recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from: [Recovery by James Arthur](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9DO3zpdWqw)  
> Gif sets: [Steer Clear](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/185780415276/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-steer-clear-now), [A Story](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/185948963731/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-a-story-well-im)

The quiet of the Stilinski house was something Juice had struggled with when he first started staying with them. The home he had grown up in had been filled with laughing, crying, shouting, and senseless chatter. The Stilinski house had the same laughter and nonsensical chatter, but it wasn't until Juice and Stiles had returned from Charming that the yelling and crying began.

Every night since they'd been home, Juice would awaken to terror-filled screams echoing through the house. He would roll out of bed and putter down the hall to the source, finding Stiles in the throes of a nightmare and John doing his best to comfort him.

"It's okay, buddy," John hushed his son, arms wrapped tightly around him. "You're safe. It's all okay. You're all right."

Juice had no doubt the nightmares were a direct result of Stiles confessing his sins to his brother. The other boy hadn't been present since that day, his mind had been somewhere else, stuck back in the night that had left his hands soaked in blood. Confessions were supposed to unburden the soul, with Stiles it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Juice had tried to keep an extra eye on him, sticking to him like glue unless they were sleeping. He wasn't entirely sure what possessed him to do it, he just had a gnawing feeling that something awful would happen if someone wasn't watching Stiles.

He generally had the day shift, during breakfast and school hours. He and John shared the evening shift through homework completion and dinner. John took the night shift on his own, having taken to sleeping in a chair beside Stiles bed so he could soothe him when the nightmares reared their ugly heads.

The first few nights Juice had kept his distance, unwilling to upset the father-son balance. Worry and curiosity had eventually dragged Juice from his room and into the one across the hall. Initially, John had urged him to return to his own room and Juice would stand idly outside Stiles' until the other boy had drifted off to sleep.

Now, though, two weeks into this mess, Juice was long past feeling like an intruder when he slipped into Stiles room like a welcomed visitor. He and John shared sympathetic frowns as Juice sat down on the floor, his back pressed against Stiles bed. They didn't speak, didn't need too, there was nothing to say.

Stiles sobs would shift to heaving breaths and then eventually to soft snores. John would slump in his chair, one hand resting on Stiles shoulder. Juice would tip his head back against the bed and struggle to stay awake in case they needed him, but John's calloused fingers softly carding through his hair eased him off to sleep with little trouble.

* * *

 

Jax, like his baby brother, could be a bit neurotic, he just hid it better than his brother did. He internalized his anxiety and panic, letting it fester beneath his skin until he eventually exploded in a fit of anger and violence. Luckily for him, once in a while, though not often, the people closest to him were able to sense when he was about to go off and were able to intervene.

"Jackie boy, we're all here because we care about you," Chibs started, straight-faced and all. "But you have a problem."

"A problem?" Jax raised a brow. "Is this a goddamn intervention?"

"Think of it as an interrogation, if it makes you feel better," Gemma tapped her finger on the bar. "Tell us what the hell has got you so twitchy."

"Oh, you want me to tell you what's going on?" Jax glared at his mother, crossing his arms over his chest. "You’re really going to stand there and act like you don't know?"

"One: Don't talk to me that way," Gemma chastised her son. "Two: What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You and _Johnny_ might be at odds about a lot of things regarding Stiles, but when something bad happens to him, you guys find a way to get on the same page," Jax had always admired the way they could come together when Stiles needed them to. "You can't tell me you didn't know what happened between him and that Donovan kid."

"Who is Donovan?" Happy asked, looming over the room. "What'd he do to baby brother?"

"Stalked him, threatened his dad," Jax had managed to get a few details out of his brother through his hysterics. "Kept that up until Stiles killed him in self-defense.”

"Good for him," Tig grinned approvingly. "So what's the fucking problem? Kid's dead, baby brother's not. End of story."

"Baby brother feels bad for killing someone," Personally, Jax didn't understand what the hell his brother had to feel bad about, but he wanted to find out. "He's conflicted about why it's happened. And he's being bullied at school about it. His classmates think he's a fucking psycho."

"At least half those rich little bastards have sociopathic tendencies, but Stiles is the psycho?" Piney scoffed, adjusting the dial on his portable oxygen tank. "He hasn't told me about any bullying."

"But he told you about the Donovan shit, didn't he?" Betrayal seemed to be all around Jax in this situation. "Who else knew about this? Did everybody know but me?"

"Stop acting like we've all conspired against you," Gemma cuffed him on the back of the head. "The only other person who knew before now is Donna."

"Well, he tells Donna everything," Jax wasn't actually surprised about that, Stiles trusted Piney and Donna as much as he did his own father. "He doesn't trust me."

"Nobody wants to listen to your goddamn pity party, Jax," Piney took his turn to knock Jax upside the head, albeit a little rougher than Gemma had. "He was trying to protect you, just like he always has."

"Look, we can't change what happened, what the kid was doing to Stiles and Johnny or what Stiles did to him," Gemma said, wheels in her head turning. "Those evil brats at his school, though, they're another story."

"That’s what I was thinking,” Jax had a few ideas in mind in how to put those little fuckers in their place. “Who's up for a trip to Beacon Hills?"

“We will handle the rich kids,” Piney gestured between himself, Gemma, and the other Sons present. “You will fix whatever it is you fucked up with Stiles.”

“What makes you think I fucked something up?” Jax was offended by the very assumption. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Stiles and Juicy haven’t stepped foot in Charming in over two weeks,” Chibs pointed out, as if Jax hadn’t been counting the days. “That’s not normal, ‘specially for Stiles, unless he’s sick or something.”

“Or something,” Now the wheels in Jax’s head were spinning. “Where was he really last spring? ‘Cause knowing what happened with that Donovan kid makes me think he wasn’t really back east visiting Claudia’s parents.”

“Committed to a psychiatric facility by the court, after an incident at school,” Piney murmured, ducking his head. “I guess he didn’t tell you that part.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jax would just add that to the long list of everything else his baby brother was keeping from him. “If we’re going to Beacon Hills, we should take Donna with us. I’m working on getting her a job as a teacher at the high school, so she can look after him in the one place we can’t.”

“Why stop at teacher?” Gemma questioned, a devilish smirk playing on her lips. “That principal is just as complicit as the rest of them if he’s standing by and doing nothing while Stiles is being bullied.”

* * *

 

A creak of the floorboards, a tap against the window, water dripping, any number of things had the remarkable ability to yank him out of his restless slumber. Call it a paternal instinct or cop instinct or something left over from the years Stiles sleepwalked, but the slightest sound in his house was all it took to put John on alert. It was those kinds of strange noises that had him up and out of the chair beside his son's bed before his eyes had even fully opened.

"What's going on?" Juice mumbled groggily, still half-asleep on the floor.

"I'm not sure," John tensed, hearing footsteps on the main floor. "Stay here. Keep the door closed. Don't wake up Stiles."

"Okay."

John left the boys in the room, securing the door behind him. He made his way to his own room, taking his service pistol from the safe on his nightstand. With his weapon drawn, he double-checked that Stiles door was still closed before following the sound of closing cupboards and clanking glasses down the steps and into the kitchen. The one thing he did not expect to find in his home, at any time of day, was the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club spread out around his dining room table or their Queen at his stove.

"Would someone care to explain to me what in the hell you all are doing at my house this early in the morning?" John asked, lowering his gun. "Or, you know, how you got in? The door was locked and I set that alarm every night."

"The alarm code is your and Claudia's anniversary," Jax noted, sipping from a coffee mug. "And I have a key."

“You could have called ahead or knocked," John would have been happy to let them in had he known they were coming. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm fixing breakfast," Gemma shook a box of pancake mix. "Then we're all going to discuss how to handle the pricks at Stiles school."

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," Donna mentioned from the couch in the living room. "They just said Stiles needed us and told me to take the day off work."

"We have plans for you, darlin'," Piney smiled at his daughter-in-law. "I think you'll like it."

"You should probably get the boys up and around," Gemma waved in the direction of the kids' bedrooms. "So they don't miss breakfast and school."

"Oh boy," John rubbed a hand over his forehead as he turned back toward the steps. "Stiles is not going to like this at all."

John sighed as he climbed the stairs to see that at least one of the rules he'd given the boys had been ignored. The bedroom was still closed up, and he could only presume Stiles was still sleeping peacefully in his bed. Juice, on the other hand, was standing outside the door, head held high, shoulders set, and jaw clenched, if he wasn't so scrawny he might've come off more menacing than angry kitten.

"Stand down, soldier," John patted the boy on the shoulder. "Reinforcements have been called in."

"Reinforcements?" Juice furrowed his brows in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"The crows have landed in Beacon Hills."

"Oh," Juice nodded, the realization of what that meant dawning on him. "This is gonna be bad, isn't it?"

"Not if we can’t rein them in," John wasn’t quite sure how they were going to do that yet, but was confident they could figure it out. “We need to control the damage, the blast radius.”

“Well, this is about the school, right? I know Stiles told Jax about what happened with Donovan, but there’s nothing Jax can do about that, so it’s gotta be about what’s happening at school,” Juice concluded, formulating a plan. “Maybe I can look into some of the faculty, you know, the ones that always look the other way, like Principal Argent.”

“How are you going to do that?” John had done basic criminal background checks on the staff after Stiles problems started and hadn’t found anything that the school board wasn’t already aware of and chose to overlook. “If there was anything on their arrest records—“

“I’m not really talking about arrest records,” Juice grinned like the cat who ate the canary. “At my old school, at any school really, there are things that would be considered scandalous that officials handle in-house to avoid negative publicity.”

“And you can find out these things?” The sheriff in John was suspicious, however, the dad was curious, and the dad part of him won out, as it always did. “This something I shouldn’t ask too many questions about?”

“Yeah, it’s better if you just let me use your laptop and do my thing.”

“Laptop’s on the kitchen table.”

* * *

 

It’d been awhile since Juice had been able to stretch his hacking skills, even longer since he got to use them for a good cause, he welcomed the opportunity to do both. It was tasks like those that really captured his attention and piqued his interest enough that it made blocking out the rest of the world easy. Of course, when he'd sat down at the table and gotten to work, he hadn't accounted for just how distracting the alluring scent of coffee and breakfast foods could be.

"Smells so good," Juice moaned, sniffing the air, capturing a whiff of that delicious aroma as it wafted into the dining room. "Stiles should not be missing this."

"Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, and hashbrowns," Gemma set the plate down in front of him on the table. "We're going to fatten you up yet."

"I welcome that challenge," Juice pausing to shovel a bite of food into his mouth. "Oh, my god."

"Good right?"

"Almost as good as my moms," Not to brag or anything, but his mom was the best cook in the world. "Yours is great, but--"

"But food is always better when Mom makes it, I know," Gemma chuckled, wiping her hands on a dishrag. "My mom was a terrible cook, terrible everything really. My dad, now he taught me everything I know."

"My compliments to you and your dad then," Juice mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Seriously, this is great. Thank you."

"So you've been at school with Stiles for a little while now," Gemma began, slipping into the chair next to him. "What can you tell me?"

"It's full of assholes," Just like every other school on the planet. "But you already knew that, so specifics are what you're looking for."

"Aren't you a smart boy," She praised him. "Spill, sweetheart, then I'll let you enjoy your breakfast."

"Stiles anticipated this might happen, that when he told Jax what happened that you guys would descend upon Beacon Hills, looking for any kind of revenge you could find," Since they couldn't get to the guy who kick started the madness, they would settle for the next best thing. "I promised him I wouldn't help you light that fire and get yourselves in trouble or make things worse for him. You guys get to leave when you're done, he has to stay here."

"Not necessarily," Gemma muttered, glancing over her shoulder to John fixing himself a cup of coffee at the counter. "I appreciate your loyalty to my son, that you're willing to cross me to keep a promise to him."

"You don't, but we can pretend like you do," What mattered was that he had the perfect workaround to the promise he made to Stiles. "If you want to know what's going on at school, you could try asking the friends he had at school before I came along."

"Names?"

"Malia Tate and Kira Yukimura," If anyone wanted to help Stiles out at school, next to Juice himself of course, it would be those two lovely ladies. "I'll text them with a time and place to meet you."

"You're a good boy, Juice."

* * *

 

Jax was the moping type, he would grudgingly admit to that. He was known to lie in bed for hours on end, dwelling on whatever was hanging heavily on his heart. Stiles, he was a keep busy kind of guy, moving from one task to another to work through the issues he was facing. They were trying to get to the same place, just took different routes to get there.

It was out of character for Stiles to be curled up in bed in the middle of the day. It was worrying to see him so still and quiet. It was goddamn unnerving that the kid was clearly awake, eyes blinking lazily at the wall, but refused to acknowledge Jax's presence.

"Ignoring the problem won't actually make it go away this time," Jax informed Stiles as he kicked off his shoes. "'Cause, I hate to break this to you, baby brother, but I am not going anywhere until you get your lazy ass out of bed."

Jax chose to drive home that point by flopping onto the bed beside his brother, elbowing him in the ribs as he went. The most reaction he got from the kid was a barely audible grunt.

"You know, when your old man first started letting you stay overnight at my place, I had a nursery all put together for you," He, Opie, and Donna spent one long weekend putting it together, making it perfect for the newest member of their family. "But I kept you in my room for the most part, first in a playpen and then in bed with me."

Stiles was probably three by the time Jax felt comfortable letting him sleep in the nursery all night. Afterward, he only crawled into Jax's bed when he had a nightmare or just needed to be close to someone after losing Claudia. They were close siblings, sue 'em.

"It's funny, actually. When you were a baby, you helped me pick up more chicks than my kutte did," Jax wasn't lying either, babies were chick magnets for reasons he did not fully understand. "'Course you were also the best form of birth control, 'cause you'd start crying at the most inopportune times."

The kid, even as an infant, seemed to have some sort of sixth sense about when Jax was about to be intimate with a woman. He'd cry as a baby, barge right in once he learned to walk, and even nowadays he would call from Beacon Hills or wherever he was whenever Jax reached for a girls belt-buckle.

"You're lucky you were such a cute fucking kid," The adorableness was genetic and got them both out of a lot of jams as small children. "Chicks loved you."

Stiles never cared much for the girls, though, even ones his own age. The poor kid had spent a decade avoiding kisses, unsolicited hugs, and pinched cheeks from the croweaters that hung around the clubhouse. Sometimes Jax wondered if unintentionally exposing Stiles to the oh-so-willing-to-please SAMCRO hanger-ons had made him skittish of women.

"Wait. This is taking my head into completely the wrong place," Sex and his brother's fear of women was not what he was there to talk about. "Look, kid, you've been avoiding me for two weeks. You haven't come to Charming, you don't answer my calls."

Jax was worried, he was nervous, he was fucking scared. His brother had never cut him off before, not once. Stiles was the one who always picked up the phone, even when he was in the middle of class.

"I miss you, buddy," He hadn't realized quite how much until he saw him lying there. "I don't know exactly where I screwed up the last time we talked, but I want to fix it."

"There's nothing to fix," Stiles mumbled sullenly, turning onto his side to face Jax. "You didn't do anything."

"Yes, I did," And he would do whatever it took to get his brother talking again, to mend whatever he had broken. "Come on, kiddo, please. Tell me what it is. Tell me how to fix it."

"I'm just so tired, Jax."

* * *

 

John hadn't made many friends in the eighteen years he had lived in Beacon Hills. In a wealthy town ruled by elitists, enemies were easy to make for a sheriff who didn't balk at the size of someone’s bank account or cower at the number of connections they had. He was surprised the first time he won the election for sheriff and every time since then, given how active the high society folks were in campaigning against him. It was always the same, they would slander him, his son, and even his deceased wife in their efforts to install a new lawman into office, one who would bend to their will, find a workaround to whatever charges their children got picked up on, be their patsy, so to speak.

So, it didn't take much for John to jump on board with the anarchists in their plan to clean up the school. Nothing John had done so far had paved the way to any real change in the town or the school. The way he saw it, if whatever the sons had in mind could steer the offspring of the rich and powerful onto the path of morality, then he would let them do their thing, and maybe even assist, so long as they didn't commit any felonies.

"I am willing to look the other way, just this once, for minor legal infractions," John wanted to be clear about that. "That does not include murder, assault, or anything that would put someone or someones in the hospital."

"So crippling the ringleaders behind the bullying at school is out of the question," Tig snickered, tipping back in his chair. "How bad could the bullying really be anyway? They're just high school kids, right?"

"Just because it's not physical, doesn't mean it's not bad," Juice scowling at the older man. "The shit they say, it's not just a few potshots here and there. They are constantly saying awful shit and leaving things in his locker. He has to deal with that every day and he can't even do anything about it, because they've got rich parents. He takes the constant abuse, because he knows no one at that school is going to help him."

"The teachers, the principal, they don't care," John hated it, but that's how the school, hell, how the whole goddamn town worked. "And I can't legally do anything unless the bullying turns physical and I would rather that not happen."

"Jax wanted to make the chemistry teacher disappear," Donna repeated what she'd told John weeks prior. "So I could replace him."

"Stiles doesn't take chemistry," Juice pointed out as his fingers continued to move over the keyboard. "I do, though. The chemistry teachers a dick. No one would care if he just disappeared and was replaced by a much nicer teacher."

"Nice isn't how my current students would describe me," Donna tutted. "But that's irrelevant, because I don't teach chemistry."

"If the teachers know what's going on and do nothing, then they're not worried about gettin' fired or anything," Chibs acknowledged, inhaling the food Gemma had given him. "Maybe they just need a boss who gives a shit."

"The principal has to go," Gemma decided. "We could disappear him or her."

"No, we cannot," John shot down that plan. "Like I said, no murders."

"We don't have to make him disappear," Juice smiled behind his computer screen. "He's going to leave Beacon Hills in his rearview mirror if he doesn't want every parent in every school district he's ever worked in to know why he's had to leave so many over the years."

"He's one of those?" Happy's face hardened. "He's fucks his students?"

"No, nothing like that," Juice assured the other man. "According to sealed disciplinary files from several different school districts, Principal Gerard Argent has a bad habit of pitting groups of students against each other. He uses race, sexualities, income brackets, whatever he can to incite violence amongst the student body."

"Why?" Tig asked curiously. "What the fucks that point of pitting a bunch of kids against each other?"

"The common denominator is all these schools are in wealthy towns like this one. Principal Argent draws a line between the rich kids and the street kids. Probably starts out with a lot of hate spewing back and forth before someone throws a punch and it escalates from there," Juice revealed, scrolling through information on the borrowed computer. " The lower class kids are fucked, they'll be punished to the fullest extent of the principals power, might even get arrested whether they started it or not. The rich kids, though, if a history violence is noted in their permanent records, that might keep them out of the ivy league schools of their parents dreams. Their parents would pay a lot of money to keep those things out of their kids’ files."

"Of course it's about money," John wasn't sure why he expected anything less. "Just like everything else in this town."

"Like I said, the principal has to go," Gemma reaffirmed her previous statement. "We show him what we know, he'll either leave voluntarily or we'll release that information to the public and he'll be run out of town."

"If we don't make the information public, he'll just move on to another town, another school," John couldn't, in good conscience, allow that to happen. "This man cannot be around children."

"Juice," Piney addressed the younger man. "Can you get addresses, phone numbers, or email addresses of the parents of the students at the previous schools Principal Argent has worked at?"

"Yeah," Juice nodded. "Why?"

"Those of you not wearing kuttes," Piney gestured to John, Gemma, and Donna. "Go to Principal Argent, tell him what we have, that we won't go public if he agrees to leave. If he says no, we send it to the local news stations of every school district he's ever work in. If he leaves, Juice can email the information to every parent of every student from those schools, and forward it to every school district he would ever send his resume to."

"And what about the kids harassing Stiles?" Happy questioned. "Are there any in particular we need to _**talk**_ to?"

"There are," Juice confirmed. "I've given Gemma the details on who can help point them out to you."

"What exactly do you plan to do to them?" John knew better than to ask, ignorance was bliss after all, but he was still the town’s sheriff. "They are teenagers."

"We're not going to give them beat downs, if that's what you're worried about," Chibs assured him. "They took away Stiles security at school, I say we take something from them."

"Right," John supposed he didn't need specifics. "Juice, I want you to stay here with Stiles and Jax. It'll give you plausible deniability."

"Okay,” Juice agreed to stay behind. “You know, there’s no guarantee that the next principal is going to be any better than Argent.”

“The depends on who the next principal is,” Gemma shifted her calculating gaze Donna’s way. “You up for it, darlin’?”

“Oh, now I’m the principal?” Donna huffed. “I am not an administrator anymore than I am a chemistry teacher.”

“But you’d do it for Stiles,” Tig smiled knowingly. “Wouldn’t you, doll?”

“I can put in an application, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get the job.”

* * *

 

Finding two girls in school of hundreds of them was not a task Gemma would normally undertake without help, not in the boots she was wearing, at least. What would have been a long game of seek and find was simplified by the text message Juice sent, requesting the girls meet her in an empty classroom during their lunch hour.

"So you're...you're Stiles' mom?" The taller of the two girls, Malia, asked her. "I've seen pictures of Mrs. Stilinski--"

"She was his stepmother," Gemma would never admit it, but Claudia had been a good woman, she'd loved John and Stiles more than anything in the world and made sure the world knew it. "I'm his real mother."

"Oh, okay," The Asian girl, Kira, scrunched up her face, as if she didn't quite believe that truth. "So, um, what did you want to talk to us about?"

"First, I wanted to thank you both for sticking by my boy when the rest of the little bastards in this school turned on him," Gemma rarely expressed gratitude for anything, but the girls deserved a lot of credit for what they had done for her kid. "Second, I want to know which of the pint-sized motherfuckers running around this school are responsible for the shit being talked about my son?"

"Scott McCall and Jackson Whittemore," Malia answered without hesitation. "I think they're in the cafeteria right now."

"Those boys are about to have their manhood stripped from them," Gemma was going to hate missing the show. "That's going to make them very angry."

"Okay…” Kira tilted her head curiously. “And boys can't control themselves when they're angry?"

"Oh, they can, they just don't," Chalk it up to society writing off every shit thing a guy did with that boys will be boys bullshit. "If they find out you two pointed me in their direction, they could come looking for you."

"I'm shaking in my boots," Malia rolled her eyes. "We can take care of ourselves."

"Not the point, baby," Gemma cautioned the girls. "Steer clear of them."

"We will," Kira promised her. "We'll hang out in my dad’s classroom between classes."

"Fine. Now, what do McCall and Whittemore drive?" A man's vehicle was as good a symbol of their masculinity as any. "Please tell me they're both expensive and flashy."

"Jackson has a Porsche, Scott rides a dirt bike."

"Show me."

* * *

 

While Stilinski and Donna were in the school office, telling Principal Argent how things were going to be, the rest of them had jobs to do. Piney had been gifted a set of master keys by one of Stiles’ lady friends, and used them to gain access to the school buses. He parked three in a neat row in front of the school, a nice makeshift barrier between the lot and the prying eyes of students, and another three on the street side to block the view of oncoming traffic.

Behind that barrier was a shiny silver Porsche and a lime green dirt bike. Windows and mirrors were shattered, seats torn up, anything that could be destroyed was destroyed. Jackson Whittemore and Scott McCall's vehicles of choice were being taken apart systematically piece by piece. They wouldn't hide the damage once the job was complete, that would defeat the purpose. No, instead, the destruction would beautifully displayed for the boys to see.

It didn't seem like much of a gesture, but to a teenage boy, hell, to a man, what they drove meant something. It was the ultimate pass to independence to a teenager, a show of wealth in a town like Beacon Hills, and a promise of greener pastures somewhere down the road to anyone who had the courage to keep driving. Take it away, dismantle it, leave it for its owner to find, was proof they couldn't care for their things, would make them a laughing stock to their peers, was a shot to the ego, and took away their quick route to the freedom every teenager craved.

The Whittemore bastard would be pissed, certainly, but would probably have a brand new car by the end of the day, courtesy of mommy and daddy's wallet. McCall family didn't have much, the kid probably saved up for months to buy his bike, without it, he was sharing his mother's car or back on regular ole bicycle. Of course, if Gemma completed her side project, the McCall kid was about to have bigger problems than a broken dirt bike.

* * *

 

Stiles was content to stay in bed all day, burrowed beneath the covers, dozing on and off. His brother, however, had other plans. He had lain in bed with him most of the day, droning on and on about whatever thought happened to be passing through his mind. Stiles imagined it was a bit like how himself acted on his good days.

Jax had left the room to take a call and hadn't come back. Stiles hadn't heard the front door open or close since earlier in the morning, so he was certain his brother was still in the house, somewhere, doing something. It was the unknowing that pulled Stiles out of bed and down the steps to his brother.

"All those voices and footsteps earlier, that was club, right?" Stiles inquired, planting his ass on the bottom step. "They're here to right my wrong?"

"They're here to insure your protection at school," Jax replied, stepping in from the living room. "You can't blame us for wanting you to be safe."

"Guess not," Stiles would love to be able to attend school without being harassed for the first time ever. "You're not on this quest, huh? Why'd they leave you behind?"

"I wanted to stay here with you, 'cause I still want to talk about everything," Jax explained, pausing briefly to give Stiles an opening he stubbornly refused to take. "You know, I thought I handled what you told me pretty well, but apparently I didn't, so I thought if I was here you would talk to me, but you've kept your mouth firmly shut."

"So your brilliant plan here is to wait me out?" Oh yeah, Stiles was on to his game. "You think if you're here long enough, I'll just start flapping my gums?"

"I can tell you a story if it'll speed things up," Jax offered, clapping his hands together. "It relates to current shit…sort of."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," Stiles did not want hear some torrid tale from his brother's past. "It won't make anything better, it won't make me feel...absolved of my sins."

"Okay," Jax sighed, leaned against the nearby wall. "Well, I'm gonna tell it anyway."

"Please don't."

"Once upon a time," Jax started. "When you were a born--"

"You don't have to do this, Jax," Stiles would beg, plead on his knees if necessary. "I'll talk, okay? I'll say whatever you want, just no more trips down memory lane."

"I hope the cops never find out the quickest way to break you is to threaten you with a story from your childhood," Jax quipped half-heartedly. "So, where was I? Right. Once upon a time--"

"Jax..." Stiles whined pitifully. "No."

"You were so small when you were born," Jax spoke softly, going against Stiles wishes and continuing on with the story. "Smaller than any baby I'd ever seen."

"That's 'cause Gemma smoked while she was pregnant with me," Stiles grumbled, scuffing his shoes over the hardwood floor. "And I was premature."

"You reminded me of Thomas," Jax confessed somberly. "So small and fragile."

"All babies are small and fragile," Not that Stiles had been around many babies. "They grow up, they grow out of it."

"That's what we think, anyway," Jax murmured, eyes downcast. "Some of that fragility still remains no matter how old we get."

"You think I'm weak."

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"You think I'm weak, because I feel guilt," Stiles snapped, glaring at his brother. "You're proud of what I did, that I killed someone..."

"You protected your family," Jax reasoned, moving to sit beside his brother. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"But I do feel guilty, Jax," Stiles couldn't control how he felt about what happened, if he could he would have already. "Maybe one day I'll feel differently about it, but as of now...it's just guilt. Guilt and confliction, because I know everyone around me thinks I shouldn't feel guilty."

"You can feel how you're going to feel," Jax draped his arm around Stiles shoulders. "I just don't want it to eat you up."

"It's...it's not," That was the lie. _**The lie**_. The biggest one Stiles had told since he gave his official statement about what happened that night with Donovan. "I'm just processing, that's all."

"Processing killing that kid or your time in a psych hospital," Jax asked, tightening his hold on his brother. "'Cause, uh, Piney ratted you out on that one."

"Well, if Piney did it, I can't be mad," Piney wouldn't rat on him unless he felt it was necessary. "I didn't keep it from you for any real reason. I just didn't think it was relevant. And it's not really the kind of thing you share with people."

"I'm not people, I'm your goddamn brother," Jax growled. "Damn it, Stiles. Why do you... Why do you think you can't tell me things? Do you not trust me?"

"It's not about trust," Stiles trusted his brother as much as he did his father, fully and completely. "You and me, we're different, you know? We don't think the same way. You have a different idea of what it means to be a man and I didn't want you to think less of me because I didn't live up to it -- and I realize how ridiculous this sounds coming out of my mouth right now, but I can't stop it."

"It is ridiculous," Jax snorted, shaking his head. "Feeling guilty about something doesn't make you less of a man, Stiles. Having a conscience, it's part of what makes you human. It's not something to be ashamed of."

"I know that," Logically, he knew it, but his head and his heart weren't agreeing on that front. "I used to think... I used to this I didn't feel enough, you know? I thought I was muted compared to other people, but now... now I think I feel too much and my head knows that so it does what it can to protect my heart from it. This time, though, my heads not doing its job. Does that make any sense to you at all?"

"Yeah, it does."

* * *

 

Gemma decided to forgo the meeting with Principal Argent in favor of having a chat with the mother of one of the boys harassing her son. She and Melissa McCall had met before, the other woman had dutifully accompanied Scott to Stiles birthday parties back when they were still BFFs. The last time they had crossed paths was at Claudia's wake when they'd gotten into a screaming match, one that was admittedly Gemma's fault.

"Nurse McCall," Gemma slipped off her sunglasses as she greeted the other woman. "Gemma Teller Morrow, Stiles mother."

"Stiles hasn't been brought in today," Melissa eyed her suspiciously from behind the hospital admissions desk. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

"Yes, there is," Gemma pasted on her best Stepford smile and leaned over the desk. "You can put a leash on your son."

"Excuse me?"

"Your son, Scott, has been speaking out of turn about my boy," Gemma didn't take kindly to spewing lies about her family. "Some would call it bullying or full on harassment."

"My son is not a bully," Melissa said defensively, hands on her hips. "I understand Stiles has had a rough time at school since he murdered that other boy, but I'm sure Scott has had no part of whatever the other students are saying or doing."

"You're sure of that, are you?" Gemma slipped the newspaper article printout about Donovan's death out of her purse and held it out to the other woman. "He gave this to a new student at school, one who is under Johnny's guardianship. Notice the little note scribbled at the bottom?"

"You can't prove Scott wrote that just because he passed it to the other boy," Melissa argued, not impressed by the evidence. "I'd heard Sheriff Stilinski had taken in another child. I'm not sure why he thought it was a good idea when he can't handle the one he's got, what happened to that Donovan kid proves that."

"I'm not sure you've got any right to judge Johnny or any other parent given the questionable job you've done yourself," Gemma may or may not have had Juice access Scott’s school file and arrest record after Malia and Kira had given her the names. "He has a habit of skipping school, flunking a good number of his classes. He was even taken into police custody and accused of stalking when the Argents found him sitting on their roof in the middle of the night after their daughter broke up with him. Then, of course, there's the bullying of my son, I have it on good authority that your Scott and his buddy Whittemore have been leading the charge on that front."

"My son is not a bully or a stalker," Melissa snarled, slamming her palms on the desk. "He's just a boy."

"There's a notation in his school records from a parent teacher conference that suggests a lack of discipline in the home could be at least partially responsible for his behavioral issues," The fact that the notation came from the teacher Stiles hated and Jax wanted to take out was irrelevant. "That's a theory I'd like to test."

"What does that mean?"

"Adolescence was a crucial time for young men and women, they needed parents to guide them in the right direction. Scott needs someone to straighten him out, show him how to be a man, and I can see that you're not up for the task," Mothers were capable of teaching their sons to be men, but only if they were willing to put in the time and effort. "I took it upon myself to contact your ex-husband, Special Agent Rafael McCall. He seemed unaware of your failures as a parent, so I enlightened him. You should be expecting a call or visit or petition for custody very soon."

* * *

 

Stiles had wandered to the backyard sometime after he finished his conversation with his brother. He had sat cross-legged in the grass and glanced up at the sky, as if it held the answer to every question he had floating around in his mind. Whatever he was looking for he must not have found if the heavy sigh passing his lips was any indicator.

"You religious?" Juice asked, feeling comfortable interrupting the other teenager’s moping. "When my mom looks up to the heavens like that she's usually mumbling some prayer, asking God for more patience or sanity."

"Nope, not religious," Stiles dropped his gaze from the blue sky to the green grass. "Just looking at the clouds."

"There are no clouds," It was a clear sunshiny day. "You okay? It was kind of hard not to hear you and your brother talking earlier."

"I'm all right," Stiles tried to reassure him. "I'm just tired of talking about that shit, you know? I talk to a shrink and my dad about it regularly. Donna and Piney check in with me about it if they think it's on my mind. I told you about it. I told Jax about it and now everyone knows and will bring it up, try to make me feel better about it."

"So you're all talked out about it," Juice understood that and would change the subject accordingly. "New topic: My mom might be coming to town soon."

"Really? That's great," Stiles grinned, but it faltered quickly. "Not to take you away though, right?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so," It depended on how well the visit went. "She just wants to see how I'm living."

"Well, if it's just the house and our little family, she'll see you've got a nice, safe place to call home," Stiles acknowledged, staring up at the house. "However, if we take her to TM and sees the clubhouse on the same property, you'll probably be on the next flight to Queens faster than you can say Redwood Original."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that to," He had toyed with the idea of omitting that part of his new life. "But I don't want to lie to her, you know? If I'm open about it, honest, it might help her accept it. And I mean, it's not like I'm part of the club, we just work together."

"Parents are the ones who preach that honesty is the best policy," Stiles remarked, tugging on Juice’s hand until he sat down on the grass beside him. "Being honest could show her how much you've matured since you've been away."

"I have matured, a lot," He was clean, in school, working part-time, and honest to boot. "Even I can't believe how much I've changed since I passed out in front of TM."

"You are what my dad would refer to as a good kid."

"A sheriff thinks I'm a good kid," The rebellious teenager inside him cringed. "There goes all my street cred."

"You're a mechanic for an outlaw biker gang and a badass computer hacker," Stiles reminded him. "You've still got plenty of street cred."

"I'd still get my ass kicked back home for turning into some pussy."

"Guess you'll just have to stay here with me then."

"Yeah, I guess so."

* * *

 

Accomplishing their tasks at the high school was a win John desperately needed, for the sake of his blood pressure and his son's safety. Coming home to see his son and foster son talking animatedly on the back lawn was the win he hadn't been expecting, but would take over all the riches in the world.

"Wow..." He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a laugh that wasn't forced from Stiles or Juice, for that matter.

A wave of contentment washed over him as he watched the lighthearted exchange between the boys, all the while knowing it wouldn't last. Even happy and smiling, the weight of the sadness they carried sat heavily on their slumped shoulders, John wondered if the burden of it would ever lift or it would follow them like a dark cloud for the rest of their lives.

"We did good today for the kids of Beacon Hills," Piney declared, joining John by the back door. “We can install a new principal, get the teachers to fall in line, but we can't change the minds of hundreds of students about Stiles."

"I know," John knew when they came up with the plan that ousting Gerard Argent was merely Band-Aid for a bullet wound. "Reforming that school will take time. Stiles will graduate long before any real change takes place."

"You don't want to keep him in that school anymore than he really wants to stay," Piney commented as the resident authority on the subject. "He's trying to prove a point. He wants to show the other kids they can't break him. What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing," The decision to let Stiles return to that hellscape disguised as a high school had nothing to do with him. "So many of Stiles choices have been taken from him in his life, and I didn't want to take this one from him. He made a good argument for going back, he had his therapist on board, and he needed me to let him try to go back. When I said he could try, I knew he was making a mistake, but it was one he had to make."

"Maybe it's time you both came home," Piney suggested, taking a swig from his trusty flask. "Let him and Juice finish out senior year at Charming High. People there don't know what Stiles did, but they know he and Juice are family of the club. They'll be safe, protected."

"I don't know, Piney," It was a tempting offer, but a complicated one. "I don't know if I could live there again."

"For Stiles you could," Piney seemed awfully confident about that, as well he should be. "You still have your daddy's house there, sittin' empty. You could easily when an election for police chief against Unser."

"I am not going to be the clubs inside man at Charming PD," John hadn't become a cop to get rid of evidence or look the other way for an MC. "And I'm not going to put myself in the position to put my son's other family in prison."

"I'd never expect you to clean up after us, that's not who you are," Piney remarked. "I think a good number of us would be willing to sacrifice our department asset for the cause."

"What cause would that be?"

"Having you and Stiles back where you belong."


	6. combustible, confused, and free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from: [I Just Don't Care That Much by Matt Maeson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFhSQRunIaw)  
> Gif sets: [Expelled](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/186207790101/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-expelled-is-this), [History](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/186397055926/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-history-lawmen), [Club Business](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/186479106361/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-club-business-guess)
> 
> **As I've said before, the verse and character histories began long before Jeff Davis decided to throw in names, backstories, and characterizations in season 6. So when Sheriff Stilinski's father is referenced, his name and characterization do not match up at all with canon.

"Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Ortiz, I am interim Principal Chambers," A middle-aged woman in an expensive looking pantsuit and a can-I-talk-to-the-manager haircut stared down at them from where she was perched on the corner of the desk. "I have brought you both here today to discuss your future at our school."

"Should my dad be here for this?" Stiles was fairly certain any talks about the future should include his father. "He's the legal guardian to the both of us."

"Your father's input will hold no bearing on the school boards opinion on the matter, therefore, he will be notified of our decision after the completion of this meeting," Principal Chambers decided, folding her hands neatly over her lap. "The incident regarding Mr. Whittemore and Mr. McCall's vehicles in the parking lot last week was reprehensible and inexcusable."

"We had nothing to do with that," Juice scowled at the woman, annoyed by the insinuation. "We weren't even at school that day."

"You were both conveniently absent," Chambers frowned, unimpressed. "However, it was brought to the school boards attention that the men responsible for the destruction of private property were connected to the two of you. Family and co-workers, respectfully."

"And just who brought this to your attention?" Stiles had one guess and he would bet his life that he was correct. "Someone with the last name McCall?"

"Irrelevant," Chambers brushed off the question. "The men who dismantled the vehicles belonged to a motorcycle club, the Sons of Anarchy. Notorious outlaws and gangsters."

"Oh please," Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "They're a motorcycle club, not bangers."

"They have a long history of violence and you exploited that to punish those you saw as schoolyard bullies," Chambers glared disapprovingly. "That is an extreme overreaction to a few hurt feelings."

"You don't know shit, bitch," Juice barked at the woman. "Stiles and his dad, Stiles friends, they tried telling teachers, the former principal, and your school board what kind of asshole those little fuckers were, but you guys ignored it."

"You will watch your mouth in this office, Mr. Ortiz," Chambers chastised him. "There is no need for that language."

"Let's be real, Principal Chambers, it doesn't matter what kind of bullies they were, if they threw hate or fists, you guys weren't going to do jackshit about it," Stiles had been in Beacon Hills public school system long enough to know the administrators didn't give a flying fuck. "As long as one of their mommies or daddies could pay for a remodel on the library or new lacrosse team uniforms, you wouldn't have done a damn thing."

"Mr. Stilinski--"

"They tormented me for months," And Stiles just took it to avoid stirring up any more trouble. "They called me a murderer and psychotic. They shoved me into lockers and even keyed my Jeep once."

"I'm sure the vandalism was accidental. Someone brushing up against you in a crowded hallway, roughly or otherwise, is a hazard of being in any public place," Chambers waved off his complaints. "As for the words exchanged or whispered, they aren't entirely incorrect, are they? You killed another boy and you have been treated for psychological problems."

"Wow," Juice gaped at the woman. "You've got an excuse for everything, don't you?"

"Here are the facts, boys," Principal Chambers stood, straightening her clothes. "Your connection to a violent criminal organization puts the other students at our school in danger. In response to this, the school board has decided to revoke your admission to our school."

"This is a public school."

"Which you are no longer enrolled in," Chambers pulled open the office door, the message clear. "Please clean out your lockers and remove yourselves from the premises."

* * *

 

Gemma was never one to ask permission for anything from anyone. Begging for forgiveness was not a low she would sink to. She said what she needed to say and did what she had to do. Apologizing for behavior or decisions just wasn't in her nature. She was painfully honest or righteously deceptive, there was rarely an in between.

"We gotta talk, baby," Gemma found that her husband usually responded best to directness. "You're not gonna like it."

"Can I finish my breakfast first?" Clay mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Or are you forewarning me to a fire you're about to start?"

"Oh, no, I'm more worried about the fires you are going to start," She wasn't the one who was going to need a leash. "Johnny is seriously considering moving home, with mine and Piney's blessing."

"He is home," Clay muttered, dropping his fork, letting it clatter onto the plate in front of him. "Beacon Hills is his home."

"Beacon Hills was a place he lived, Charming is his home," Like Gemma’s own family, the Stilinskis history was rooted in Charming. "Things haven't been going well for Stiles up there, not since that mess with the Donovan kid."

"I don't see what the big deal is there," Clay took a swig of his coffee. "Kid was defending himself, right?"

"Doesn't matter to those little douchebags he goes to school with," She didn't understand it anymore than Stiles did himself. "Things are different there, the people are different. Stiles, Juice, Johnny, they need to be around folks like them, working class, and that's here."

"What's your play here, Gem?" Clay asked, suspicion dripping from his tone. "This about getting your youngest trapped in your web?"

"What else would it be about?" She had been trying to find a way in with her youngest boy for the better part of ten years to no avail. "You're not still worried about me and Johnny, are you? That was a onetime thing."

"A one time thing that has been haunting me in the form of a very annoying child for the last eighteen years," Clay glowered at the framed photograph of Stiles on the shelf by the dining room table. "How many times it happened doesn't fucking matter when there's living proof of it."

"Well, I can't go back in time and get rid of him," Not that she would if she could. "So, you're just gonna have to suck it up until he finally snaps and kills you."

"What makes you think I won't kill him?"

"You wouldn't do that to me," She hid a knowing smile behind her coffee mug. "And Jax would kill you if you touched his baby brother."

"You think either of your boys has the stones to kill me?" Clay spread his arms wide, welcoming the potential challenge. "Jax, maybe, if I gave him a real reason to. Stiles, well, he's got the taste of blood in his mouth now, had a chance to decide how he feels about it, and I don't think he likes it very much."

"It will still be easier for him the second time," The first was always the worst, the second was too in some ways, if only because it doesn't affect you as much as the first, but it wasn't as hard to make that killing blow when you'd done it before. "He already hates you. All it would take for him to pull that trigger is a good enough reason."

"You planning to give him a reason?" Her husband's voice was surprisingly calm for someone who was questioning her motives. "Is that your play here, baby?"

"Why would I do that, hmm?" She reached out to caress his chin. "Why would I let anyone kill you?"

"To earn your youngest’s loyalty," He narrowed his eyes at her. "To put your eldest at the gavel."

"Oh, it's too soon for that, sweetheart," She reassured her husband. "There's still work to be done before they're ready to take their rightful places at the table."

* * *

 

The interim principal hadn't given Juice or Stiles an inch of space since their little conference. She'd followed them down the school hallways, crowded them as they cleaned out their lockers, and personally marched them out of the building, leaving them to their own devices only once the doors had slammed shut behind them.

"Being expelled for something we didn't even do feels like cheating," Juice muttered as they made their way across the parking lot. "If I'm getting kicked out of school, I at least want to earn it, you know?"

"I'm so glad you feel that way," Stiles clucked, unlocking the Jeep doors. "'Cause I've already got our revenge scheme worked out."

"Revenge scheme..." Yeah, that sounded just a tad bit ominous for Juice's liking. "Is this scheme something we could get arrested for?"

"Only if we get caught," Stiles winked, tossing his backpack into the vehicle. "But we're not going to get caught."

"Sounds like a solid plan."

"It will be once we agree on the details," The other boy grinned devilishly. "Grand theft or arson?"

"Grand theft, preferably. Realistically, though, I've got a record I'd rather not add to," Juice was trying to keep his nose clean, figuratively and literally. "And, you know, neither option really seem like your style."

"What do you think my style is?"

"Something with a large, _metaphorical_ , blast radius that's still low-key and can't be traced back to you," Juice had yet to see Stiles carry out a plan of attack on anyone, but he was pretty damn confident about how the other kid would do it if he could. "I think you like to set up the dominos and let your targets knock them down, so you can just sit back and watch the ensuing chaos."

"God, you're good," Stiles gasped, eyes wide and gleaming. "Or I'm just a really easy read."

"I'm just that good," Juice flashed him a cocky smirk. "I've got an idea of my own. The question is, do you want these people to deal with permanent consequences or temporary ones?"

"Well, I don't want to ruin anyone’s lives," Stiles pursed his lips. "What do you have in mind? Something that will put your hacking skills to work again?"

"Always," Hacking was as much of a drug as any other to him, but luckily not one anyone had succeeded in forcing him to quit using as of yet. "The motive will be harder to determine if it's done to the masses. Hand-picking a few students out of the bunch will just make it easier to figure out it was us."

"We can't do it to everyone," Stiles agreed. "I mean, I don't want Kira and Malia to suffer."

"Do either of them play any sports?"

"No," Stiles shook his head. "You want to target the athletic department? That's a lot of kids, but no one we give a shit about."

"And a lot of people hate jocks, but according to your dad, you were one at some point, played lacrosse or something. It’s unlikely anyone will think you have anything to do with shit being pulled on your former teammates," And since Juice and Stiles were inexplicably tied in the minds of their peers, no one would suspect him either. "So am I dropping GPA points, SAT scores, or sending official retractions of recommendation letters sent by coaches and school staff to colleges and universities?"

"Which one will be easiest for you?"

"GPA points, probably," Those were easily accessible compared to the others. "I can't just tank them, though. We've got to be smart about it."

"Drop them a few points to make it seem like they're grades are slipping, so no one suspects any foul play," Stiles caught on to what Juice had in mind. "Can you change their grades to back up the drop? That would make it harder for them to claim it's a mistake."

"Oh yeah, changing grades is easy," Juice had done that plenty of times for the right price in high school. "I know it doesn't seem like much, but I can almost guarantee that a lot of these kids' grades barely meet the sports eligibility requirements. Drop their grades, it’ll prevent them from playing sports at a crucial time when scouts might be looking at them for scholarships and shit."

"You're smart, gorgeous, funny, and you think your plans all the way through," Stiles licked his lips, looking Juice up and down. "I think you might be my soul mate."

"It's a possibility," Juice wasn't adverse to that possibility, but he wasn't going to let it distract him from his task either. "So, am I hacking school records again or do you still want to rip the school off?"

"I like you're idea, let's go with that," Stiles patted him on the shoulder. "First, though, we need to go by the station and tell my dad that we got booted from school."

"We're not getting grounded for that, are we?"

"No, we didn't do anything to deserve it," Stiles huffed, glaring at the 'Beacon Hills High School' sign at the mouth at the parking lot. "Interim Principal Chambers might be getting a talking to, though."

* * *

 

Gemma had never wanted much out of life, her family was all she needed at the end of the day, but God had proved to a fickle son of a bitch several times over in that respect. He had ripped away members of the family she was born with and one she made for herself. Her brother, her son, her husband, life had taken them from her, left her clinging to the few members she had left.

Stiles was the exception to the rule by her own doing. He was never going to be hers, she felt that while he was still growing inside of her. It wasn't that she didn't love him, she did, but it wasn't enough to tether them together like it had been with Jax and Thomas. There was a distance that only grew with each passing year, one she would jump at the chance to close if the opportunity presented itself.

"You know, you and Stiles have the exact same expression when you're thinking about each other," Piney's voice floated through the office as he stepped inside. "A cross between brooding and constipated."

"Excuse me?" Gemma pulled a face, taking offense to the old man's description of her current state. "I look constipated?"

"You look deep in thought," Piney corrected his assessment. "This about the boys moving home?"

"It sounds like a good idea, but..." The more Gemma thought about it, the more the idea of the Stilinskis returning to Charming unsettled her. "They don't have the best track record here."

"Don't make it about this town. Stilinskis called Charming home long before you dragged home JT and his barely realized concept of the Sons of Anarchy," Piney reminded her. "Johnny and Stiles were both born here, they've got just as much claim to Charming as anyone."

"No one is saying it's not their home," Gemma had been raised with John, in the house next to the Stilinski family, she knew how deep their roots ran in that town. "There's just a lot of bad blood here."

"Johnny was able to let it all go. He ran away from it, but when Stiles was born, he let it go, for Stiles sake at least," Piney moved to sit on the couch, getting comfortable to carry out an uncomfortable conversation. "Clay, he got everything he ever wanted. He got the chief he wanted in office, and free rein over the town. He won, but he's still holding a decades old grudge because Johnny's father refused to be cowed by him."

"Clay and Johnny's grudges aren't the ones I'm worried about," That shit had never been made right, but it had been put to bed years ago. "If Stiles finds out what happened back then, he would take it out on Clay."

"He's gone this long without anyone sharing your husband’s sins with him," Piney pointed out. "But if he's here full time, there's a higher chance someone will let something slip."

"And Stiles isn't Johnny, Piney," Her son liked to think he had his father’s temperament, but they both knew that wasn't always true. "I am still a part of him, the dangerous parts of him. He will try to repair the damage Clay did to his family."

"Stiles won't do it with blood," Piney claimed, drawing knowledge from the considerable amount of time he had spent with a variety of Stilinskis, not just Stiles. "His need to show Clay the same cruelty that was shown to his family will outweigh his bloodlust. He will break Clay, make him suffer. He'll want Clay to watch as he takes everything he holds dear from him."

"That's me and the club."

"Would you choose Stiles over Clay?" Piney asked, tilting his head to the side. "If it came down to one life or the other, who would you save? Your husband or your son?"

"You know the answer to that."

"If Stiles finds out that history on his own, he will act without including the rest of us," Piney warned her. "We need to share that information ourselves, give him the full truth, help him process it before he makes any decisions about it."

"Not the full truth," Gemma couldn't allow that, not while she still walked the earth. "Whatever we-- Whatever _**you**_ tell him, he's going to take back to Jax, if only to see if it was history he already knew. Jax...Jax can't know that JT was involved."

"He'll find out eventually."

"Jax barely has any memories of JT," Her husband had passed when their eldest was in high school, but prior to that he was rarely around, always off doing club business somewhere else, Belfast usually, rarely around to spend time with their boys. "Almost everything Jax knows about his father is what we've told him. I don't want to taint what little he remembers on his own."

"Fine."

* * *

 

The missing person's case dropped on John's desk was one that had been there several times over the last few years. It had been opened and closed, and every time it reappeared, he knew it wouldn't be the last. The victim or perpetrator, depending on whom you asked, had a habit of disappearing, only to be hunted down by his own family or John's deputies, and on occasion John's own son.

"Hey, Pops," Speak of the devil and he shall appear in the doorway of John's office with his foster brother at his side. "You're probably wondering why we're not in school."

"You were expelled," John had a very lengthy conversation with the school board less than an hour ago regarding their decision. "I've already spoken to the board and the principal."

"Are we going back?" Juice cringed at the possibility as he dropped into a free chair across from John. "'Cause I'm cool with being a dropout."

"I still want to go to college," Stiles chimed in, taking his own seat. "Even if it's just community college. I got dreams, you know."

"We can fight your expulsion, if that's what you want," The grounds for their dismissal were shaky at best. "Or we can explore other options."

"We have options?" Juice raised his brows. "Like what? Homeschooling?"

"That's one option," John had homeschooled Stiles briefly the previous year. "Another would be to transfer schools."

"You can't afford to send one of us to Beacon Hills Academy," Stiles remarked, tipping his head up to gaze absently at the ceiling tiles. "You definitely can't afford to send both of us there."

"I wasn't referring to that school," The last time he had enrolled his son in the private school it was with a scholarship, paying the tuition out of pocket would have bankrupted him. "I was going to suggest Charming High School."

"I could be open to that," Juice commented, jumping onboard. "I like Charming a hell of a lot more than I do Beacon Hills."

"It wouldn't make since for us to travel back and forth every day," Stiles expressed his reservations about what was possibly the best solution they had to work with. "And I'm not moving in with Jax full time, so if that's the plan, sorry, not gonna happen."

"You wouldn't be moving in with Jax or commuting from Beacon Hills to Charming every day," John wasn’t entertaining either of those ideas. "We would all move to Charming, into the house I grew up in."

"We can do that?" Juice questioned, eyes flickering between the Stilinski men. "I mean, what about everything you guys have here?"

"Yeah, what about your job, Dad?" Stiles motioned toward the office. "You worked really hard for all this."

"I know I did, but in the end, Stiles, it's just a job," At this stage in his life, John wasn't opposed to a change in professions. "There are other jobs."

"Can't you get a job at Charming PD?" Juice proposed. "I've seen the Chief hanging around TM. He's pretty old, always looks like he's about to drop dead. Couldn't you put your hat in the ring for his job?"

"I could, yes," However, ousting a sick old man to take over his job at Charming PD wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list. "Or I could get a job at the police academy, training cadets. I could even put my art skills to use, to prove all those classes I took as a kid weren’t a waste of my time. I could do any number of things. I don't have to be a sheriff."

"But you are a sheriff," Stiles snapped, hands gripping the armrests of the chair. "That's what you do. That is what you worked for. It's who you are. You can't just...just quit because I got expelled from school. That's not fair. That’s not fair to you."

"Stiles, it's not just about this school stuff," If he were being honest, this change had been a long time coming. "This town, it's taken its toll on us. It's either going to poison us of everything good we've got left or it will drain the life right out of us. We can't stay here."

"So we're running away?" Stiles wrapped his arms around his middle, hugging himself. "They'll think we're weak."

"It's not running, it's surviving," Juice interjected, reaching over to grip Stiles shoulder. "Your dad's right. This place is toxic."

"I'm not saying it's not," Stiles sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "It's just... Charming?"

"I thought you'd be happy about that," John wasn't prepared for his son to protest the possibility of a move. "You could see your brother more often. Donna will be one of your teachers. You wouldn't waste so much gas going back and forth every weekend."

"That all sounds great for me. Juice too, I guess," Stiles glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "But you-- you hate Charming. It took your family from you."

"And gave me a new one," John smiled at the boys in front of him. "Yes, I lost my father there, and my brother was taken from me there, but, Stiles, you were born there, and you met Juan Carlos there. It's given me as much as it's taken."

"Christ, that's corny," Stiles grunted, but somehow managed not to roll his eyes. "Could you really be happy there? Do you think that's even a possibility for you?"

"Yes, I do," John could be happy anywhere so long as he had his family. "Is moving to Charming something you would seriously consider?"

"Yes," Stiles finally agreed. "If you both are willing, then I'd totally move to Charming."

"Glad to hear it," John relaxed into his chair. "Juan Carlos, I want you to discuss this with your mother. Let her know what's going on. We agreed to keep her informed about things."

"Okay," Juice nodded. "I'll call her when we get home."

"Good," John didn't want to uproot the boy without his mother's permission. "Stiles, there is one last thing we need to talk about before you two head out."

"Which is?"

"Peter Hale slipped out of Eichen House again," John wouldn't call it an escape when the man easily moseyed out the side door, so unassuming that he barely blipped on the radar of the orderlies. "I know you two were friendly while you were in there, and that his family used to look after you when Mom was sick, but I do not want you out in the preserve looking for him, not this time."

"It's not like he's dangerous," Stiles argued, brows knitting together in a frown. "Well, he’s not dangerous, you know, _anymore_. He had a problem, a serious problem, but he got help."

"He’s a spree killer, Stiles," John, like the court, had accepted Peter's insanity plea, but until the psychiatrists at Eichen House deemed him to be of sound mind and body, John didn't want him running around town on his own. "You are free to visit him while he's at Eichen House, but when he's on one of his little excursions, I want you to keep your distance."

"Fine," Stiles grudgingly accepted his father's terms. "He's not going to hurt me. He's had plenty of chances."

"That's not the point."

"Does Derek know his uncles out and about again?"

"He does," John would have bet the younger Hale had known about his uncle's disappearance long before he had, but John had made a courtesy call anyway. "And when he comes around the house to ask for your help to find Peter, I want you to tell him no."

"The world 'no' isn't really in Derek's vocabulary," Stiles snorted, shaking his head. "But I'll give it a try."

"If you need me, call me."

"Will do, Pops."

* * *

 

Ordinarily, Stiles thrived in a chaotic environment, but since his brush with insanity, routines had brought a since a calm into his life. His after school routine included snacking on whatever junk food was lying around while he completed his homework, then playing video games until dinner. The expulsion switched things up a bit, a snack turned into lunch, and instead of video games, he would just have to observe Juice working his magic on the computer.

"I know we said we'd target assholes on the sports teams, but now I think we should adjust those parameters," Juice proposed, setting the laptop up on the dining room table. "We can do the whole student body, just crosscheck names with disciplinary files and/or social media posts."

"Only fuck with the assholes," Stiles preferred that to simply screwing with a set group of people, a good portion of which were innocent. "Wouldn't that require more work, though? You'd have to hack more than school records."

"That's what I like about it, the challenge," Juice cracked his knuckles in preparation for the task. "I don't get to do a lot of this work anymore."

"I still feel like we're low balling it," The cruel part of Stiles mind wanted to give his classmates, and a selection of teachers, exactly what they deserved, but that couldn't be done with a simple hack. "But I'll let you take the lead on this."

"If we did something that could be cataclysmic for these kids, you would regret it," Juice said knowingly. "Maybe not today or this year, but someday it would start to eat away at you. I don't want that."

"I appreciate that," He was glad he had a friend that was willing to keep him in check. "Thanks."

"You'd do the same for me," Juice smiled softly over the computer screen. "So, who was that guy your dad was talking about earlier? Peter Hale?"

"That's a long story," But seeing as they had no homework, Stiles supposed he had time to share. "The Hale family founded this town. They had this beautiful house out in the preserve, every generation of the family was born there, grew up there, married there, grew old there…or should have. They were one of those families that people wrote folklore about. They were, like, real life urban legends. I mean, kids around here grew up hearing stories about how the Hales were werewolves."

"Past tense?"

"Talia Hale, Peter's older sister, was the district attorney, she and my dad worked together a lot. They were good friends. She had three kids, Laura, Derek, and Cora," Laura used to babysit Stiles while his dad was at work and his mom was sick. "I went to school with Cora. Derek was a few years ahead of us. In high school, he got involved with a substitute teacher, Kate Argent."

"As in Principal Argent?"

"Principal Argent's daughter," Stiles still couldn't wrap his head around how the old man kept his job after the scandal his daughter had caused. "Kate was obsessed with Derek and Derek was a vulnerable teenager. When Talia found out an older woman was preying on her son, she put an end to it. Derek wasn't happy about it, but he wasn't going to disobey his mother."

"No son with half a brain would."

"Kate wasn't about to let him go. One weekend, when the entire family was at home celebrating something or another,” Stiles couldn’t recall what it was they were celebrating, but he supposed it didn’t matter anymore. “She and a group of men she hired went out to the woods, broke into the house, corralled everyone into the basement and blocked all the exits so they couldn't escape. Then they set the house on fire."

"Jesus Christ," Juice's fingers froze over the keyboard. "With everyone trapped in the basement?"

"Grandparents, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins. Elderly, adults, teenagers, children, _**babies**_ ," Stiles shuddered, remembering the little ones happily running around the yard of the Hale house the last time he’d seen them together, all smiles and laughter. "They all burned."

"Except Peter and Derek, right?" Juice furrowed his brows. "They weren't there?"

"Derek and Laura had gotten held up at school. They were never there," Thank God for small blessings. "Peter managed to get one of the basement windows open. He got Derek's younger sister out, but everyone else...they were already gone. He barely made it out alive, there were burns over most of his body. He was placed in a medically induced coma for a while. When he woke up, he was in a catatonic state and placed in a long term care facility."

"Eichen House."

"No, Eichen House came later. Long term care was just another hospital he was dumped in. Laura and Derek left town once he was settled. They moved to New York and left Peter behind. He was alone for years without a single visit," Stiles could understand that they needed a clean break after all they'd been through, but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe things would have been different if they had been present for their uncle, even if he couldn't be present for them. "When Laura finally came around, it triggered something in him. He lashed out. He killed her. Then he broke out of the hospital, tracked down those responsible for killing his family and killed them too."

"Shit," Juice let out a harsh breath. "The people who killed his family are one thing, but this niece?"

"He didn't stop there. He, uh, kidnapped Kate's niece, Allison, from the spring dance we were at. He decided the whole family was evil and needed to burn like his family had. He took her to what was left of his home, planned to kill her there," Having had his own run-ins with the Argent family, Stiles couldn't say whether or not he thought Peter was wrong in his assessments of them. "His murder spree was my dad's case, and I knew the family, so I had kept an eye on things. I could see what he was doing, so I had an idea of where he would take her. Scott and I went out there to hold him off. I called Derek because I thought Derek could talk him down."

"Did he?"

"He kicked his ass," In all fairness, Derek had tried to talk Peter down, but words didn't get through to him as well as a good old fashion beat down. "Peter didn't fight back. He let Derek take out all his anger and grief on him. By the time my dad and his deputies showed up, Peter was telling Derek to finish it, to kill him, so he could be with their family."

"That's why he was sent to Eichen House instead of prison," Juice determined. "Your time there overlapped with his?"

“We had group therapy together,” Most of Stiles treatment had been with other juveniles, but for certain things Dr. Morrell decided he was mature enough to join the adults. “It was strange to see him after all that time, stranger that he didn't seem shocked to see me. It's like he knew I'd wind up there eventually."

"Your dad made it seem like you were friends."

"I needed a connection or something. I had Malia there too, and she was great, but she didn't...she didn't understand in the same way Peter did," Malia's trauma had been inflicted upon her, Peter's had too, in a sense, but like Stiles, Peter also inflicted his own share of trauma onto others as well as himself. "Peter didn't judge what I had done. He didn't try to make me feel better about it or justify it. He didn't make it seem right or wrong, it just was. It happened."

"Maybe that's how he wished people would see him and what he did, as something that just happened," Juice speculated as he fingers began moving over the keyboard once more. "How he was with you must have helped you get better. You were released. Has he ever gotten close to that? Is that even an option for someone like him?"

"He wasn't a prisoner there, you know. He knew how to get in and out. He could leave whenever he wanted, come back when he felt like it. They only kept him there, because he let them," Stiles believed that letting himself be institutionalized was Peter's way of paying penance for the pain he had caused his remaining family. "He always told me I could go with him on one of his day passes out, but I didn't trust myself around people. Still don't, honestly."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. You've got more control over yourself than most grown men," Juice acknowledged thoughtfully. "So, um, what about that Derek guy? Your dad said he'd come around looking for you."

"Probably tomorrow or the next day," It depended on how quickly news of his uncles most recent disappearance had gotten to him. "He and Cora live with friends of their family in South America. He comes up when Peter pulls these little stunts, always thinks I'll know where to find him."

"Do you?"

"Only through process of elimination," The first places Stiles looked were ones close to the Hale family. "Derek doesn't actually need the help. I think he just wants someone there because he's afraid of what he'll do if he's alone with his uncle. He's never forgiven him for what he did to Laura."

"Understandable," Juice said with a nod. "Not really something you get over."

"No, it's not-- Shit, hold on," Stiles paused, shoving his hand into his pants pocket to remove his buzzing cellphone. "What’s this now…"

"Maybe Derek's letting you know he's on his way."

"Nope, it's Piney. He wants me to meet him at the cabin," Stiles read off the text message. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Juice assured him. "I got to call my mom anyway."

"Okay, I'll be back in a bit."

* * *

 

Juice had a good idea of how the phone call with his mother was going to go. Every conversation he'd had with her since leaving Queens had revolved around the same cycle of emotions: concern, confusion, worry. He had a feeling disappointment would be added to the list once he told her about his expulsion from school, no matter the reason why. Disappointment was by far the worst emotion a parent could express to a child, therefore Juice planned to avoid hearing it for as long as possible, he figured he had until John got off work to actually make the call anyhow.

Avoidance was made simple by a quick nap that was rudely interrupted by an insistent knock at the front door that yanked him out of a very nice dream. He tried not to appear as annoyed as he was when he pulled the door open to greet the dark-haired man on the front steps.

"Hey," Juice cautiously kept himself half-hidden behind the door, using it as a barrier between himself and the stranger in case he proved to be dangerous. "Can I help you with something?"

"You're not Stiles or Sheriff Stilinski," The man scowled, trying to glance around Juice and inside the house, as if he could spy one of the Stilinski men through the opening. "Where are they? Who are you?"

"I'm Sheriff Stilinski's foster son," It still wasn't official or anything, but it was the easiest way to explain his presence. "I'm not telling you where they are until you tell me who you are."

"Derek Hale," The stranger introduced himself. "I didn't know Stilinski had a foster son."

"I'm new," That was about as much explaining as he was going to do about himself. "Stiles said to expect you sooner or later, he just thought it'd be sometime after tomorrow."

"Well, I'm here now," Derek said gruffly. "Where is he?"

"Not here," And Juice wasn't about to give up Stiles location without permission. "I can tell him you came by."

"Fine," Derek huffed, turning back toward the curb where a black Camaro was parked, his presumably. "Tell him to call me. I need him to--"

"To help you find your uncle, he told me," He wasn't entirely sure that was information Stiles was supposed to share with him or anyone, but the cat was out of the bag now. "Um, do you want some help?"

"Shouldn't you be in school?" Derek asked, glaring at him over his shoulder. "It's the middle of the day."

"Yet you're here looking for Stiles," When he should have been in school as well. "So..."

"I went by the school first, Malia told me he'd been expelled," Derek mentioned, making his way down the walkway to his car. "You're the kid he got expelled with?"

"If it helps, it wasn't our fault," Not that this guy had any reason to judge him. "And we're not that broken up about it."

"Who the hell would be?"

"I don't know," Someone who wanted a future and thought getting kicked out of school would destroy their college prospects. "So, do you want some help?"

"No, I don't need help," Derek claimed as he unlocked the Camaro. "Just tell Stiles I came by."

"So you can ask him for help," The dude just didn't want Juice's help, which was fine, it’s not like they knew each other. "John's at the station, if you don’t want to wait for Stiles."

"I'll wait for Stiles, he's the only one my uncle listens to," Derek slid into his car, abruptly ending their conversation with the slam of the car door.

"Okay," Juice nodded to himself, kicking the front door closed. "Nice to meet you too."

* * *

 

Contrary to popular belief the club's cabin did not actually belong to the club, it was Piney's. His father had bought it when he was a kid, used it for hunting and drinking. Since it had been under Piney's ownership, he had allowed the club to use it unrestricted.

The club often used it for business rather than leisure or downtime. It was their place to go when someone needed to lay low or heal from injuries or sickness. Piney, on the other hand, used it when he needed to put distance between himself and the club, which is exactly why he'd called Jax and Stiles up there. The further they were from SAMCRO, the less pressure he felt to protect it.

"You gonna tell us what this is all about or just continue to ply us with alcohol?" Jax questioned, gesturing with the beer he'd been given upon his arrival. "I'm a safe drunk driver, but I don't think Stiles is."

"Mines a root beer," Stiles turned the bottle to show his brother the label of his non-alcoholic beverage. "And there's no such thing as a safe drunk driver."

"You can lecture Jax later," Piney could almost guarantee that lecture would include graphic photographs from crash sites that would disprove Jax's claim. "Right now I need to talk to you both about something."

"We're all ears, man," Jax relaxed on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "What's this about?"

"If this move is going to happen, there are things you need to know," Things that had been kept carefully under wraps until the time was right to reveal the truth. "There's history between the Stilinski family and SAMCRO that you two need to be aware of."

"History?" Jax scrunched up his face. "What kind of history?"

"The bloody kind," Stiles responded without hesitation. "Lawmen. Outlaws. Not a difficult deduction there."

"It's not as simple as that," In some ways it was as simple as black and white, but he doubted the boys would ever see it that way. "You know my history with your families."

"You and my gramps grew up together, you even dated his twin sister for awhile in high school," Stiles relayed the tidbits of information he had picked up over the years "You both met JT and Clay in Vietnam, before Gemma brought them to town, of course. That was just, what, a coincidence?"

"Yeah, actually. Once we got home, we all went our separate ways. A few years later, Gemma brought JT to Charming," The pair had met at a bar in Reno, where Gemma had a singing gig, and were instantly smitten with each other, or so the story went. "How Gemma and JT met is irrelevant. We all ended up in Charming, that's what's important, right?"

"Sure."

"By the time the club was fully established, Stiles, your grandfather was the chief of police, and an honest one," The last honest chief of police Charming had, seeing as the next and current one was the corrupt Wayne Unser. "The club had begun moving guns for the Irish, but we were finding it difficult to transport them from the port to their respective buyers when the police kept intercepting the shipments."

"Guess Grandpa Stilinski was good at his job," Jax threw a grin his brother's way. "So, you guys had to find a way to work with him or around him."

"Henry Stilinski wasn't like Unser. He wouldn't agree to look the other way for any price," Piney had admired that, and was amused by how much it annoyed JT and Clay. "Threats hadn't worked either. Clay, young and eager to earn his bones in the club, decided to take matters into his own hands. It was not club sanctioned, I can promise you that. We don't do that kind of thing now and we didn't do it then."

"What kind of thing?" Stiles tensed beside his brother. "What did he do?"

"Look, I need to listen and not react," Piney couldn't say all he needed to say if the boys got worked up. "Can you manage that?"

"Just tell us what the fuck he did, Piney," Jax snapped, setting his beer down on the coffee table. "We know who Clay is, what he's capable of."

"Johnny was a scrawny little thing, had just started junior high school. Clay grabbed him off the street while he was walking home after baseball practice," Times were different then, folks were far too trusting, even in the face of someone in a leather biker kutte. "He brought him up here. Chained him up by his wrists to the ceiling rafters for days, beating him, starving him, refusing to let him sleep or use the bathroom."

"Jesus Christ," Stiles paled, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. "Y-You knew? You knew he had my dad?"

"No, I did not," Piney never would have allowed that to happen to any child, let alone his best friend's son. "I found out by accident. Mary and I had gotten into a fight, so I came up here to get my head on straight and I found Johnny."

"How bad was it?" Jax asked, draping a comforting arm around his brother. "How bad was the damage?"

"He was in the hospital for weeks," Piney would wager the mental recovery had taken months, if not longer. "I'm sure you've seen the scars. There's a bad one that stretches from his left shoulder and over his collar bone, it's from a knife that was still sticking out of him when I found him."

"Why didn't you just kill Clay there and then?" Stiles sneered at his uncle, betrayal written all over his features. "Why would you let him live?"

"He wasn't there. He had to keep up appearances, go to work and be seen in public like everything was normal," The shackles and twin broken legs had kept Johnny from escaping during those hours he was left alone. "Your father didn't need to tell me who did it, I already knew, all he did was confirm it. We told your grandfather together once we got to the hospital. While your father was in surgery, Henry told me that he was going to handle it."

"Clay's still breathing, so Grandpa Stilinski didn't take his revenge in blood," Jax said, sounding disappointed by that decision. "I would've been, what, two or three at the time? Too young to remember any vengeance."

"He already said it, Grandpa was the last honest chief Charming had. Blood for blood would've been against his moral code," Stiles murmured, eyes tinted red. "So, how long was Clay put away for?"

"He should have done two decades for aggravated assault, kidnapping and false imprisonment, but he had a really good lawyer," It made Piney sick just to think of how Clay might as well have skirted any repercussions at all given how much time he actually served. "They poked enough holes in the case to cause reasonable doubt and plead Clay down. Then they made a deal rather than put Johnny through a trial. Clay got ten years, served five."

"Got out just in time to take part in Grandpa Stilinski's murder," Jax remarked coldly. "See, that I remember. I remember hearing Mom and Dad argue about it, late at night when they thought I was asleep. I remember Mom threatening to leave with me and Tommy if Dad didn't tell her the truth."

"Clay killed my grandfather," Stiles seethed with rage, body beginning to tremble as the anger coursed through his veins like a livewire. "He tortured my father and killed my grandfather."

"Clay, my dad, and Unser killed your grandfather," Jax confessed to his baby brother. "They all took part in it. JT told Gemma how they'd convinced him to come to the clubhouse one afternoon under the guise of a parley, and how they shot him in the back when he figured out it was a set up."

"You knew and you didn't tell me?" Stiles pushed his brother away, moving as far away from him as he could on the couch without toppling off it. "W-Why? Why would you keep that from me?"

"You've hated Clay since the day you came into this world, before life ever gave you a reason," Jax commented, an odd note of fondness in his voice. "I didn't know what it would do to you if you had a reason. I thought your hate would cloud your judgment--"

"Hate doesn't cloud my judgment, it clears it," Stiles snarled. "I'm not you."

"If Clay knew that you had that information, Stiles, he would kill you," Piney had no doubt in his mind about that. "You would either try to prove it was him or somehow trick him into confessing. You would find a way to punish him the way he deserves to be punished, and that would make you a threat."

"We know what Clay does to threats," Jax reached out to his brother again, only to be rebuffed when the boy flinched away from him. "He would have executed you, made it look like a club beef did you in."

"And he would kill anyone who suspected he had a thing to do with it," Piney had known exactly who Clay was and how he solved problems since they were in combat together in Vietnam. "Your father. Jax. Me. Everyone."

"So what am I supposed to do? Nothing? Just sit on this information?" Stiles stood from the couch, needing to move, to pace to keep his temper under control. "I can't do nothing. You know that. You know me. So why the fuck would you tell me any of this?"

"Anyone who has lived in this town for over thirty years knows exactly what happened to your grandfather. It was never a secret. Everyone was just too afraid to speak up, because they didn't want to end up just like him," Piney couldn't risk it back then, not when he had a wife and young son that needed him. "If you live here, if you get to know the people more than just in passing, then the risk is greater that they'll tell you what really happened to both your grandfather and your father. Gemma and I thought it was best if you heard it from me."

"You got Gemma's permission to tell us," Jax snorted. "That's sweet."

"I'm surprised she didn't want to tell us herself, to control the narrative," Stiles grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "That would have been the easiest way to protect her husband. Both of her husbands, apparently."

"You would never take anything she said for truth," Piney suspected it would have been harder for Gemma to admit what truly Clay was to her sons than it was for him. "Clay can't know that you know, if he does--"

"I want him to know. I want him to be looking over his shoulder for me," Stiles spit out, scorn and disdain seeping from his pours. "Let him see me as a threat. Let him try to hurt my father or me. We all know what happened to the last guy who tried that. We know what I’m capable of now. Let him come for me, it'll look better if it's self defense."

* * *

 

It was a far more stressful to prepare for his impending resignation than John would have liked. It kept him cramped up in his office all day, dealing with bureaucratic nonsense, completing paperwork and gathering personal files, and sharing the news with a few of his long-time, most trusted deputies. It was tedious task after tedious task, at the end of the day he was ready to just say fuck it and quit on the spot, yet somehow he managed to restrain himself.

By the time he finally made it home, it was well after dinnertime, and he expected the boys to be getting ready for bed. However, the Jeep was absent from the driveway, and inside the house Juice was wide-awake, sitting cross-legged in front of the TV with a video game controlled in his hands.

"Stiles isn't home, huh?" John sighed, hanging his coat on the rack beside the door. "Derek come looking for him already?"

"Yes, but that's not who Stiles is with," Juice pressed pause on his game to give John his attention. "Piney asked him to go up to the cabin."

"Guess I should have seen that coming," At the very least, John could trust Piney to give Stiles the full truth about their pasts, whether that was a blessing or a curse remained to be seen. "Did you get a hold of your mom?"

"I told her we might be moving, but I thought she should talk to you about why I got kicked out of school," Obviously not a subject Juice wanted to bring up with his mother himself given their history. "I thought it might go over better if she heard it from another adult. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay," John would explain the situation to the best of his abilities. "Was she all right about the move?"

"Yeah, I guess," Juice shrugged. "Are you?"

"Sorry?"

"Earlier, Stiles seemed really worried about you and this move, not just because of your job, but 'cause of what happened to your family in Charming," Juice broached the topic with a sympathetic lit to his tone. "You told me before that your father was killed by three men: A wannabe kingpin, the man who now sits behind your dad's desk at Charming PD, and someone who died in a crash on the interstate. The guy in Charming PD is the current chief, Unser. I think the kingpin is Gemma's husband Clay, is that right?

"It is," That was knowledge John had lived with since he was seventeen years old. "John Teller, Jax's father, Gemma's first husband, he was the other man. He died in a motorcycle accident in ‘93."

“Stiles can't stand Clay, but he still works next to him at TM, is around him at the clubhouse," Juice remarked, drawing his knees up to his chest. "How do you… How do you let him anywhere near Stiles after what he did to your family?”

“It wasn’t about Clay. It was about Jax and Stiles, the fact that they were brothers. Jax was young, he didn’t know that history, and I wasn’t going to punish him and Stiles for what Clay did," Allowing his son and Jax into each other's lives was simple, the easiest decision of his life. The hard part came later, when Jax requested time with Stiles in Charming, putting John's son in close proximity to Clay. "Jax and Stiles needed each other, I could see that when Stiles was only a few days old. They needed to be brothers more than I needed to be angry with Clay.”

"Does Stiles know who killed your dad?"

"I suspect he does now," It was a safe bet Stiles was now privy to more history than John would have liked. "We need to watch him, Juan Carlos. He's worked too hard to get right with himself after Donovan. We can't let him get lost again."

"We won't."

* * *

 

The clubhouse chapel was sacred place, as holy as any religious church. Anyone who wore the reaper knew that whatever was said behind those closed double doors would stay there. It was their own personal confessional booth, and that's what Jax was counting on when he confronted his stepfather behind those doors.

"Where the hell have you been?" Clay groused, as if Jax had missed an important meeting of some kind. "You left work early, didn't tell anyone where you were going. The rest of us had to pick up your slack."

"I was up at the cabin with Piney and Stiles," Jax said, taking his place in the VP's chair at Clay's left. "Piney wanted to give us a history lesson. He told us what you did."

"I've done a lot of things, son," Clay picked the gavel up from the table, making a show of admiring it. "You're gonna have to be more specific."

"I know what you did to Stilinski when he was a kid," Jax clarified through gritted teeth. "You kidnapped him. You brutalized him."

"Oh, that. That was club business," Clay chuckled, not the least bit fazed by the accusations. "And, you know, in those days, nothing happened in the club without JT's say so, but I guess Piney left out your old man's part in all that, huh?

"I want to be surprised," Despite the pretty lies his mother and his father’s friends had tried to sell him over the years, Jax was well aware of who his dad really was. "It's hard to be, though, when I've known since I was seven that you guys killed Chief Stilinski together."

"So the old man ran his mouth and now you think you know it all," Clay twirled the gavel in his hands. "It's ancient history. Who cares?"

"Stiles cares."

"I'm not worried about a child," Clay claimed, the tick in his jaw giving away the lie. "Yeah, he's got blood on his hands now, but he's also scared of himself. He might want revenge for what I did to his family to secure our clubs business dealings, but when it comes time to pull that trigger, he will hesitate."

"I don't think so," Anyone who knew his baby brother knew it was a mistake to underestimate him. "He knows everything. What exactly do you think he's going to do with that information?"

"Your little brother, he thinks too much, that's his greatest weakness," Clay smirked, believing he had the younger Stilinskis number. "He'll plan and he'll plot. He'll weigh the damage he wants to inflict versus the retaliation that will follow. He’ll see there would be no Stilinski left standing if he goes through with his plans. So, he'll drop whatever scheme he's worked out. He'll grin and bear it, go on living all the while knowing what I did to his family and wishing he didn't."

"You think the club would retaliate against him if he decided you finally needed to pay for your crimes?" Under any other circumstances, involving anyone else, that would be the case, but when people they knew were involved, Jax's brother of all people, loyalties had a way of shifting. "We wouldn't."

"You think _**my**_ club would allow some little bastard to kill me and walk away free and clear? No. That goes against our very nature. But if I put him in the ground beside his grandfather? They wouldn’t even blink," Clay banged the gavel against the table, an unconscious gesture of an internal ruling he'd made regarding the situation. "The only reason we spilt Stilinski blood all those years ago was because they were a threat to the club. With the information Stiles has now, everything he's seen and heard over the years, all the inside knowledge he's retained, he's a much bigger threat to us than his grandfather ever was. Personally, I think my club would agree that the only option that ensures our survival is to eliminate that threat."

"You're our leader. Our president. We take orders from you. We protect you. We earn for you," They preached brotherhood, but in the end, they were all expendable to each other, and that was never more clear than when blood and betrayal were brought to the table. "But Stiles? We’ve watched him grow up. We helped raise him. He is ours in a way you will never be. So you need to think very carefully before you decide to settle old scores with a dead man through his grandson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 'What If' addition to the verse, so all bets are off.


	7. peaceful in the eye of a hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Gif sets: [Accusations](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/186641600926/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-accusations-i-am), [War](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/186792367802/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-war-he-was-very), [Hesitation](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187218732526/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-hesitation-this-is), [Family Dinner](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187267651426/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-family-dinner-so)  
> Chapter title comes from [I Can Hold a Grudge Like Nobody's Business by Adam Jensen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xpcAJuTk2oU)

Spending the pre-dawn hours traipsing the woods with Derek Hale might have been Stiles idea of a good time a year or so ago, but it had since lost its appeal. He had tried to focus on the task, scouring the preserve for Peter, but his mind was stuck on Clay and what he had done to his family and what he was going to do with that information.

"Saw the boxes when I picked you up," Derek mentioned casually. "You guys moving?"

"Supposed to be," Stiles had been finding ways to drag out the process until he settled on a plan of attack for Clay. "To, uh, Charming. It's where Dad's from. I've got family there."

"I've got a couple cousins in Charming," Derek revealed, in an uncharacteristically sharing mood. "One's a politician, the others a cop."

"Jacob and David," Stiles had met them both during his years in Charming. "Same last name and all, but I didn't know they were relatives of yours."

"Distantly. My mom's dad's brother's kids or something," Derek shrugged. "I don't really know them. They never lived in Beacon Hills. Didn't even come to our family's funeral."

"Sorry," The Hale family funeral had been a huge spectacle, hundreds of people had shown up to pay their respects, but very few had actually known the family. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You've never asked to ask a question before."

"Usually they're pointless questions," The question Stiles wanted to ask required some tact. "This one is on the heavier side of things."

"What is it?"

"After your family died, you guys left town," What was left of them anyway. "Did it help? The distance, I mean?"

"At the time I didn't think so, but hindsight, yeah it did. No one knew us in New York, knew what we'd been through. No one looked at us with pity or whispered about us," Derek acknowledged, stepping over a log in their path. "This about the stuff I've been hearing about you around town?"

"People talk a lot of shit about me," As Juice was kind enough to point out to him weeks prior. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Beacon Hills is my home too; I try to keep up to date on the news. I read an article about you and a kid named Donovan," Derek gazed at him out of the corner of his eye. "These last few days, since I've been back, I've been hearing things about you and your foster brother getting kicked out of school."

"That was some bullshit," Stiles would be forever bitter about that. "Juice and I had nothing to do with why we were expelled. My older brother and his friends, they did that on their own."

"They destroyed Whittemore and McCall's cars from what I heard," Derek smirked, obviously approving of the methods. "You can't fight the expulsion?"

"No point," Beacon Hills High School was not a healthy environment for any of them. "Scott and Jackson spread a bunch of rumors about me after I killed Donovan. I've been bullied at school my whole life, but they've taken it to an entirely different level these last few months."

"Kids can be cruel," Derek muttered, shaking his head. "I'd bet your new foster brother didn't help the situation."

"He's like me, he just doesn't fit here," They were both made for a different world than the one Beacon Hills had to offer. "And please stop calling him my brother. He's my…friend."

"Uh huh," Derek nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "So, you want to know whether leaving Beacon Hills is going to help you feel better about what happened?"

"Nothing is ever going to make that feel better. I was thinking more of the threat against your family, it's part of the reason you guys left and didn't come back for years, right?" The identity of the arsonist, the mass murderer, hadn't come to light until after Peter had come back to himself and was able to tell them who was in his home that night, and by that time Laura Hale had already gone to join her deceased family. "Did you think, with all the time that had passed, that it would be safe? Is that why Laura decided to come back?"

"Laura did, I didn't. I still don't," Derek admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Kids at school are a threat to you, right?"

"No, it's not Beacon Hills," Stiles' classmates were assholes, but he never thought they were dangerous. "My dad left Charming after his father was murdered. The man who murdered him is, legally, my stepfather."

"I'm guessing that's new information to you."

"If I had known about it, I would have dealt with it," As a child that would have been as simple as staying away from Charming to prevent his father from sharing the same air as the son of a bitch who destroyed their family. Things were different now. "To make things worse, a few years before his dad was killed, this same guy tortured my dad so his father would go along with whatever he wanted."

"Jesus."

"My dad has been forced to interact with this guy for the last eighteen years, because of me," It wasn't Stiles fault, he knew that rationally, but he couldn't help but believe his relationship with Jax had come at a heavy price for his father. "Me and this guy, we've got a tumultuous history as it is. Now he knows I know what he did to my family. He knows I won't just let it go."

"It makes you the threat, which makes him a threat," Derek deduced, sighing heavily. "It's not safe for you to be in Charming. If you go, there's a chance you end up like Laura or worse..."

"Like you," Alone with only a singular member of family to speak of. "I won't let that happen."

"You're going to convince your dad to stay in Beacon Hills?" Derek asked. "Because there are other towns. You're not limited to the two of them."

"No, we're going to Charming," It was the Stilinski family's home long before Clay Morrow had ever even heard of it. "I just have to make sure he's not going to be a problem for us."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"I'm not sure yet," That was something he would have to discuss with someone else. "Look, Peter's not out here right now, but he's a creature of habit, he'll be around soon enough, when he's finished stirring up trouble. I say we call it quits for now. Go home, get some sleep, and regroup this afternoon."

"All right."

* * *

 

The sun was barely beginning to peek over the horizon when John stumbled down the stairs half-asleep, trying to clip on his badge without stabbing himself with the little pin. As much as he loved being a cop, he certainly wasn’t going to miss being pulled out of bed, after a double shift, for an emergency call out.

"You're up early," Juice's voice startled him when he shuffled into the kitchen.

"Could say the same to you," John mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes. "Everything all right?"

"Just a bad night," Juice shrugged, scratching absently at the healed over track marks on his arms. "Bad memories catch up with me when I try to sleep."

"You want to talk about it?"

"You look like you're on your way out," Juice noted, gesturing to John's uniform. "Maybe later, though."

"Okay," John smiled softly, pleased the boy felt comfortable with the idea of opening up to him. "Have you been going to those NA meetings?"

"I usually catch the afternoon one while Stiles is at his therapy session," Juice assured him that he was taking his recovery seriously. "He's back, by the way. Stiles. He's came in a little while ago. I think he's in the shower now."

"Yeah, I passed him in the hall," John's boy had looked about as exhausted as he felt. "No luck finding Peter Hale, I guess."

"He doesn't seem too worried about it."

"Well, he's a got a soft spot for Peter," John wasn't unsympathetic to that. "I've got a crime scene to get to, but I'll be home soon. We all need to get moving on packing up the house. I need to get you boys back in school, can't really do that until we get settled in Charming."

"My room is boxed up already. I don't have much," Juice said, sipping from his coffee mug. "I wasn't sure about packing anything else in the house. I didn't want to overstep."

"You wouldn't be overstepping," It was as much his home now as it was John and Stiles. "I just don't want you to have to do it all by yourself. I mean, I moved Stiles and I into this house on my own and it was not easy, I expect moving out of it will be an even bigger chore. Stiles and I will pull our weight. I promise."

"I know you will. You've already done the garage, the attic, and a lot of the living room," Juice waved a hand toward the boxes piled in the hallway leading to the other room. "Stiles, though, he's been...distracted."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," John couldn't even manage to get his son to sit down for dinner, let alone convince him to start packing up their home. "I'll talk to him tonight, or try to anyway."

"He perplexes me, you know?" Juice mentioned, scratching his head. "Shit keeps getting thrown at him, information, trauma, a new kind of hell, and he just keeps going, you know? My grandpa would say he's got a strong resolve."

"That perplexes you?" John smiled fondly. "You've been through more than your fair share of hell, you're still on your feet. What does that say about your resolve?"

"I'm a drug addict, so..."

"Recovering drug addict," John corrected him. "And Stiles is being treated for mental health issues."

"So neither of us has a strong resolve?"

"You both have been put through the ringer and neither of you just happened to make it through by chance. You worked hard to get through it, to heal. You took the necessary steps to get you where you needed to be," John was damn proud of both of them for having the strength to do that. "I'd say you both have a very strong resolve."

"Oh."

* * *

 

Gemma had tried to wait Piney out in the days since his talk with Jax and Stiles, but the man never came down from his mountain. He was hiding like some pussy, afraid to face her, leading her to believe he'd given her sons far more information than he had any right to. Days of radio silence, of being ignored, had used up what little patience and restraint she had left.

"What game are you playing, old man?" Gemma snarled as she barged into the cabin uninvited. "What the hell did you tell my boys?"

"The truth," Piney didn't spare her a glance up from his book. "Like I said I would."

"How much truth?" Gemma tossed her purse on the couch and dropped into a chair at the table. "Jax hasn't spoken to me since you talked to him. What did you say to him about me?"

"Nothing," Piney saved his page with a bookmark and set the novel aside. "He brought you up when we talked about Clay's part in Henry Stilinski's murder."

"What?"

"Said he'd heard you and JT arguing about it one night, heard you threaten to leave with him and Thomas if JT didn't tell you what really happened," Old grief flickered over the old man’s features. "I didn't tell him JT pulled the trigger on Henry, but he already knew JT was a part of it."

"Shit," Gemma tangled her fingers in her hair anxiously. "He's known this whole time?"

"Jax isn't speaking to you because of anything you did or didn't do, Gem," Piney remarked, reaching out to grip her arm. "It's about what you could do, what you will do now that he and Stiles have history you never wanted them to have, and now that Clay knows they have that history."

"What I could do..." Gemma mulled the statement over in her head. "I'm in the goddamn middle between my husband and my sons."

"It's time to choose a side, darlin'," Piney set his lips in a grim line, eyeing her with something akin to pity. "Jax isn't sure if you'll choose his."

"I will always choose his side, if he doesn't know that by now, he's beyond help," She knew it would happen eventually, a conflict between Jax and Clay, she just thought she'd have more time to prepare for it. "How do you think this plays out? We both know Jax will go along with what Stiles wants. You said Stiles would curb his bloodlust to make Clay suffer. So, how bad do think this will get?"

"I was wrong about Stiles. The cruelty Clay showed Johnny will be the reason he refuses to let Clay suffer. He wants to be better than Clay. He won't sink to his level. He and Jax, they'll make it quick and clean," Piney determined, nodding along with every word that came out of his own mouth. "But Jax, he loves Clay like a father. He's spent more time with him than he ever did JT. He wants Clay dead for the damage he's done, he knows Clay deserves to die, but he doesn't see how deeply that's going to cut him."

"Stiles can't even take a life in self-defense without having a complete mental breakdown," She wasn't sure just how weak that made her youngest, but it sure as shit didn't make him as strong as he needed to be to take on Clay. "Neither of them is taking club retaliation into account."

"There's one person who can end this war with little blowback from the police or the club," Piney pointed out, staring down his nose at her expectantly. "One person who could save those boys from losing anymore of themselves to a war that started before one of them was even born."

"You--” Gemma faltered, clearing her throat. “You want me to kill Clay for them?"

"Wouldn't be the first time you had a hand in a husband's death, would it?"

* * *

 

John wasn't gone more than fifteen minutes when Stiles lumbered down the stairs two at a time, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for someone who was out all night playing find-the-psychopath. Juice had seen the other kid as energetic as possible after going three days without sleep before finally crashing, so he wasn't too worried about him.

"Why do look like you're going somewhere?" Juice asked, noting Stiles was fully dressed, shoes, hoodie, and all. "We're supposed to be packing the house up."

"No. No packing for anyone," Stiles shook his head, snagging his keys off the counter and shoving them into his pocket. "We're not moving to Charming until I know it's safe for us."

"Well, your dad seems pretty gung-ho about it," Juice figured, as the parent, John had final say on all decisions regarding where they lived. "If he didn't think it was safe, he wouldn't be moving us there, right?"

"What he thinks and what's true are two entirely different things," Stiles proclaimed, brandishing a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

"Is there a reason you're carrying?" If Juice were standing, he'd probably be taking a cautionary step away from the other kid. "Where'd you even get a gun, anyway? Your dad doesn't seem like the type who would let you have one."

"Piney gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. Dad lets me keep it so long as I only use it at the range under his supervision," Stiles replied, checking to see how many rounds were in the clip. "I'm taking it with me for protection. There's a thirty year old blood feud that needs to be settled before anyone does any moving to Charming."

"Blood feud," Juice snickered, amused by the terminology. "So you're going to Charming to..."

"To declare war," Stiles gesticulated wildly with the pistol. "Or end the cease fire, I guess. The war started years ago. I'm just going to finish it."

"What would you like me to tell your dad when he gets home and asks where you are?"

"Tell him the truth," Stiles advised him. "No reason to lie."

"That you're participating in a low-rent adaption of the Hatfield & McCoys?"

"You know, if you were aware of the complete history of this feud, you would not be mocking me."

"Put the gun away and stick around," Juice kicked out the chair beside him. "Fill me in."

"I don't have time for that," Stiles huffed, checking the safety on the gun before returning it to his waistband. "I'm meeting Jax at my dad's old house in Charming, I'm already late."

"Oh, good," Knowing his brother would be with him made Juice feel a little better about letting him leave. "You seem kind of off balance right now, so I'm glad you'll be with someone who can rein you in and keep you grounded."

"What an adorably naive thing to assume."

* * *

 

The old Stilinski house was only two blocks from Jax's place. It wasn't anything special, a small place for a small family, but Jax always found himself idling in front of it for a few moments. He had a distinct memory, from nearly three decades prior, when he was a little kid, of being dressed in a neatly pressed suit, holding his mother's hand, and walking up the front porch with other funeral attendees.

Jax hadn't been inside the place since Henry Stilinski's wake, but he was pretty certain it would feel like stepping back in time if he had. He would bet John had only taken what he could carry in his knapsack when he'd fled Charming, the furniture and the family's personal belongings would've been left to collect dust. His theory was confirmed when he let himself into the garage to find his baby brother tinkering around on the Jeep using his grandfather's rusty tools.

"Something wrong with Ol’ Roscoe ?" Jax asked, leaning over the side of the vehicle. "Reason you're not doing the repairs at TM?"

"Just a tune up," Stiles mumbled, head ducked under the hood of the Jeep. "Didn't feel like socializing with everyone."

"I get it," Jax had been giving his club friends a wide-berth as well, since his meeting with Clay he wasn't quite sure who he could trust. "Saw an interesting news bulletin before I left the house. Apparently, your old school burnt down. They suspect arson."

"I had nothing to do with it," Stiles scowled, clanking the wrench he was using against the engine block. “I am not responsible for every crime in Beacon Hills.”

"I wasn't accusing you," Jax held up his hands. "You know, I get the same bullshit accusations here in Charming."

"Yeah, but you usually are responsible," Stiles claimed with a huff. "I am innocent. Okay? I am not the one who set fire to hell."

"I never said you did," Although the more his brother protested, the more suspicious Jax became. "I was just letting you know someone had."

"Oh."

"So, we need to talk about what happens next," They'd had a few days to process the history Piney had given them, now it was time to decide what they were going to do with that information. "I don't think it's a good idea for you guys to move down here while Clay's still in charge."

"I agree, but my dad's made up his mind," Stiles sighed, setting the wrench aside. "So, we need to take Clay off the field and we need to do it soon. I don't know how much longer I can keep stalling this move."

"We have to be smart about this," They couldn't just shoot Clay while he sat at the gavel. "We have to avoid club retaliation."

"It only works if Clay comes at me first," Stiles decided, wiping his grease-covered hands on a dirty rag. "The club and the cops can't dispute clear-cut self-defense."

"It's not going to be you, Stiles," Jax wasn't going to help put more blood on his baby brother's hands. "We can make it look like an accident or retaliation from another club or I can do it."

"Retaliation from another club could get messy, that can blowback on the entire club," Stiles poked holes in that plan. "An accident is preferable over you doing it, but there are too many things that can go wrong. I will do it."

"No, you won't." And that was fucking final. "I know you're angry, kid. You have every right to be. What Clay did to your family was unforgiveable. He has to die, but killing him yourself isn't going to make you feel better."

"Clay thinks he won, Jax, and he did. He tortured my dad and killed my grandfather to open up the gun pipeline in Charming. You are all profiting off what he did to my family. Every single charter is profiting off it," Stiles voiced his disgust for the clubs practices. "He doesn't get to win. You don't get to be the one to make things right. I do. I want a Stilinski to be the last thing he sees. I want him to know that he didn't beat us."

"The gun business won't die with Clay," It was too big of a commodity and there were too many strings attached to it to unravel it overnight. "It's going to take time to break those ties, to get the club out of it, but we will, I promise you that."

"That is tomorrow’s problem, Jax," Stiles sighed, balling the rag up and tossing it across the garage. "Clay is who we have to deal with today."

"We will, but you won't be the one behind the trigger when we do," Jax was not going to change his mind about that, but he had a feeling his brother wouldn't either. "Look, before we do anything about Clay, there is one person we need to get on board, one who will either make things really easy for us or that much harder."

"Gemma," Stiles clenched his hands into fists. "She's a liability in this. If we tell her what we're trying to do, she'll warn him. She'll put us at risk."

"I'm not so sure," Jax had to believe his mother would choose him if push came to shove. "We need to bring her in on this. If we leave her out of it, she is going to fight us every step of the way, even if she is on our side."

"Fine."

* * *

 

With the right music, Juice learned, packing could be made, well, not fun, but less tedious than it might have been otherwise. It took him a while to get into a good rhythm, but there was no stopping him once he traded the alt-rock/emo shit from the mp3 player Stiles had been letting him borrow to the grunge/heavy metal he preferred. He had finished boxing up the living room, the downstairs bathroom, the majority of the kitchen, and even got a jumpstart on Stiles room before he was interrupted.

"Anthrax, huh?" John chuckled, turning down the volume on the Bluetooth speaker. "I wouldn’t have guessed they'd be your type."

"Really?" Juice would try not to be insulted by that. "What do you think my type is?"

"Nirvana," John shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Maybe a little Alice in Chains or Soundgarden."

"I've got a little Alice in Chains and Soundgarden," His affinity for 90s grunge might have had something to do with his older brothers sneaking him into concerts when they were supposed to be babysitting him at home. "I'm kind of surprised you know Anthrax."

"Claudia was a fan," John recalled with a fond grin. "I'm more of jazz guy myself."

"I know, I packed up your record collection earlier," If Juice were to guess based on the wear and age of the albums, he would say it was an inherited collection. "So, uh, what was the emergency your deputies needed you for?"

"Someone burnt down the high school."

"I've been here all day," Juice had already been expelled for something he didn't do, he wasn't going to be charged for a crime he was innocent of too. "And Stiles left not long after you did."

"Relax, kiddo. I know neither of you did it," John assured him. "The perp was still there, admiring his work, when the fire department was trying to put the blaze out. It was Peter Hale."

"The missing guy Stiles spent all night looking for?" With that in mind, it probably not a good time to bring up the fact that one of Stiles ideas for getting revenge on their school also involved arson. "Why would he do that?"

"It’s possible he thought Gerard Argent was still the principal there," John speculated. "Or, maybe he'd heard what had been going on with Stiles there and decided to take matters into his own hands."

"He's got a soft spot for Stiles like Stiles does for him, huh?"

"I think so, yeah," John nodded, leaning against the doorframe. "So, this morning you weren't doing so great. You ready to talk about it?"

"I don't, um... It's not easy to explain, really, um," Juice paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Ever since my mom told me she booked her flight out here, my heads been...loud. It's like everything I've been trying to put behind me is catching up with me. Not that I was trying to put her behind me or anything. It's just...Queens. _**Home**_. I fucked things up so bad there, and she was caught in the crossfire a lot. And I can't...I can't stop thinking about any of it."

"That's because you've been trying to put it behind you when you should be trying to work through it," John reasoned thoughtfully. "Maybe she can help with that. She had a front row seat to it all, right? Maybe while she's here, you two can sit down and have a real conversation about all of it."

"You really think talking about it is going to help?" To be fair, Juice had never tried to talk about his issues with his mother, not in a deep or impactful way. "I know you and Stiles are big talkers, but not all families are like that."

"It's just a suggestion, Juan Carlos. Talking about real things, tough things, it does not come easy for me and Stiles, but we've learned that it's something we need to do. Silence is the easy option, but it's not the best one," John commented, shifting on his feet. "Speaking of families, though. Is anyone else in your family coming with your mom? You've got brothers and sisters, right? Will any of them be joining her on this trip?"

"I sure as hell hope not," He loved his family, he truly did, he just did not have the strength to deal with the whole brood just yet. "My oldest brother can't take time off work during the school year, he's a teacher. My oldest sister would probably come, but she's in the middle of her residency at the hospital. My other sister on probation and can't leave the state. My other older brother has to look after our little brother while Mom's gone, so..."

"So just your mom then," John smiled. "Good. That's good. Some one-on-one time with her will be good for you."

"I hope so."

"Oh, before I forget," John stalled just as he was turning to leave the room. "Did Stiles say where he was going when he left?"

"Oh, uh, to declare war on someone," Juice only became aware of how ridiculous that sounded as it tumbled from his lips. "His words, not mine."

"Yeah," John huffed, shaking his head. "That sounds about right."

"Does that kind of thing happen a lot?" Juice knew Stiles had a lot of enemies, but since he'd known him, but he'd never taken things quite so far.

"Only in Charming," John muttered sardonically. "I have a pretty good idea of who his target it."

"He was very dramatic about it," As dramatic as anyone making that kind of declaration could be, anyway. "And deadly serious, I think."

"He usually is," John hummed, expression growing weary. "I'll give him a call, make sure he's all right."

"Um, he did have a gun with him," Juice mentioned, gnawing on his lower lip. "Maybe I should have led with that..."

"No, it's okay," John brushed off his worry. "I take the firing pin out of it when we're through at the gun range, put it back before we go again."

"Wouldn't he know that?"

"You think I let him see me do it?" John scoffed. "He'd think I don't trust him or something."

* * *

 

The Stilinskis home in Charming wasn't unfamiliar to Gemma. She had been sent to retrieve her brother from the house every day when he and John were boys. Her baby brother Nathaniel had been as much a staple in the Stilinski house as Johnny had been in theirs next-door.

Not a day went by that Gemma didn't pass by the pair of houses on her way to work or to Jax's house. It'd been nearly forty years since she'd been in her childhood home and about twenty-eight since she'd last stepped foot in the Stilinskis. The only thing that had changed in the Stilinski house was the dust level.

"You know, your Aunt Hetty was supposed to clear this place out after your daddy left," Gemma commented, settling into a chair at the kitchen table. "'Course the woman was always a bit of a flake."

"We didn't ask you to come here for a trip down memory lane, Mom," Jax remarked, standing by the open sliding glass door. "We need to talk to you about something."

"About Clay," Stiles clarified, crossing his arms over his chest. "What he did to my family. What the three of us are going to do to him."

"The three of us?" Despite her conversation with Piney that morning, Gemma wasn't entirely sure she could go along with whatever they had planned. "I know what you want to do to him. I'm not sure I can help you."

"You're not sure..." Stiles glowered. "I don't understand your hesitation."

"Really? You don't understand?" Gemma snorted, never quite grasping how dense her youngest was until that moment. "He's my goddamn husband."

"I'm sure it won't take you long to find a new one," Stiles countered. "This is happening whether you like it or not, Gemma. Get on board or get the hell out of the way."

"Gem, we're not trying to force your hand here," Jax took a puff from his cigarette. "We just need some assurance that you're not going to warn him or try to stop us."

"And I need some assurances that the two of you actually know what the hell you are doing," She couldn't allow them to make a mistake here, not when the consequences could be devastating for everyone involved. "You can't just execute him."

"We weren't planning to," Stiles said as he began to pace, needing to move to keep his festering anger in check. "Clay's going to have an accident."

"Accident?" Jax furrowed his brows. "What happened to _'it'll look better if it's self-defense'_?”

"That would take too long," Stiles muttered, refusing to allow Clay to breathe any longer than necessary. "I need this done before we complete our move to Charming. The quickest way to do that is to cause an accident."

"Accidents resulting in death raise suspicions," Jax argued, flicking his cigarette butt out the backdoor. "And, like you said before, too many things can go wrong. It needs to be self defense, so even the Sons loyal to him understand why it had to happen."

"Well, then, we need to give him a reason to come after me and quick," Stiles huffed, balling his hands into fists. "And before you get all pissy about me being the bait, I'll remind you that I'm the best option. Clay already hates me. He's been looking for a reason to get rid of me since I was born. No one will be surprised if he tries to take me out."

"You can be the bait," Jax agreed, albeit grudgingly. "But like I said this morning, you're not going to be the one to pull the trigger."

"It can't be you either. Can't risk the club thinking you were looking for a reason to take the gavel sooner," Gemma wasn't about to let the club to hurt either of her boys if she could stop it. "I'll do it."

"Mom--"

"I'll do it," Gemma repeated, leaving no room for argument in her tone. "How do you plan to get Clay to come after you, Stiles?"

"By telling him the truth."

"Do it tonight, in the chapel. Get there first so you can sit at the gavel," Gemma could almost picture how infuriated Clay would be to see her bastard offspring in the place he cherished the most. "Then you'll come to our house for dinner. You'll sit in his seat at the table."

"Let him see that I'm taking everything from him," Stiles mouth twisted up in a sinister smirk. "His club. His family."

"He won't able to control himself," It would set her husband off, cause him to make a mistake, to react without thinking. "He will lash out."

"It can't happen at the house, though," Jax interrupted their plotting. "The club needs to see him go after Stiles so there's no question about what happened."

"We invite everyone over for a family dinner. Celebrating Stiles finally coming home," The club would be expecting that anyway. "We need something that's really going to push him over the edge, though."

“Don’t worry about that,” A confident grin spread across Stiles lips. “I got it covered.”

“Christ,” Gemma scrubbed a hand down her face. “Do I even want to know?”

"Probably not."

* * *

 

Piney wasn't ashamed of revealing long held family secrets to Jax and Stiles, they were both old enough to understand and it was past time someone had shared that history. However, he did feel guilty for not consulting the one person affected most by what Clay had done and Piney's decision to tell the kids about it.

"You don't have to apologize. You were right to tell them, they needed to know," John murmured, handing him a beer. "I'm not sure I could have been the one to have that conversation."

"It wasn't as easy as I thought it'd be," Henry Stilinski had been a good friend of Piney's, revisiting the events that led to his death had brought long buried feelings of grief and betrayal back to the surface. "I don't want you to worry about the boys using what I told them to make a mess. Gemma and I already talked about it. She's going to handle it."

"I'm gonna go out on the limb and say that's probably something I don't want to ask questions about," John sighed, casting a somber glance to the photo of his father on the wall. "I'm not sure my father would want anyone making a mess over his death."

"Did you want to?" Piney asked, twisting the cap off the beer bottle. "When the wound was still fresh, did you ever think about getting revenge?"

"It's why I had to leave. I had so much anger over what happened that I couldn't see straight. I was helpless, useless, weak," John confessed, rubbing the spot on his collarbone, over the scar Clay had given him. "I knew if I was going to take on Clay and JT, I had to change, and I couldn't do that if I had to see them every day."

"So you left Charming," Piney could remember that day clearly. He'd gone over to the Stilinski house to check on the teenager, only to find that he had vacated the premises, not a note or forwarding address left, he had just disappeared. "Joined the military."

"I thought the military could teach me what I needed to learn in order to do what I had to do. And in a way, it did," John admitted with a small, bitter laugh. "It taught me killing wasn't going to fix what was broken or make me feel better."

"You're lucky, some people never learn that."

"Truth is, I was happy when I found out JT had been killed. I still wake up wishing Clay would get what's coming to him," John hunched his shoulders, ashamed of himself. "But as much as I hate Clay, I never wanted to put Stiles at odds with him. I never wanted Clay to see Stiles as a threat."

"Clay was always going to see Stiles as a threat, even if he and your daddy hadn't been enemies," Piney figured that boiled down to the circumstances surrounding Stiles conception. "Stiles being the child of an affair Clay's wife had while he was in prison was never going to sit right with him."

"In my defense, I didn't know Gemma had married Clay when I slept with her," John cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson. "Not that it would have stopped me. There was a lot of tequila flowing."

"Uh-huh."

"You know, sometimes, I, uh, I think Gemma did it on purpose. That she, uh," John cleared his throat awkwardly. "That she didn't find me by chance that night at the bar. That she..."

"Let you knock her up?"

"I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes she-she'll see Stiles and I together, and this small, satisfied smile will appear on her face, like all is right in the world and she's proud that had done that," John smiled sadly to himself. "And I don't know, maybe it was her way of apologizing for something the men she chose to love did to my family. She had nothing to apologize for, none of it was her fault, but, I don't know, maybe she wanted to give me something to make up for what they took."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly what she was doing, to be honest with you," Piney knew from experience what guilt could prompt people to do. "Gemma's the caretaker. She cleans up after the club, soothes ruffled feathers when the club goes too far. The club went way too far with you and your daddy."

"You know she used to send me care packages after I left Charming. I got them all the time while I was in boot camp, and later when I was overseas," John recalled. "Back then, I thought it was because I had been friends with her brother and keeping a line to me open was her way of keeping a part of him with her."

"I'm sure that was part of it," Piney had never lost a sibling himself, but he imagined someone like Gemma would do whatever she could to hold onto any connection she had to a lost loved one. "Another part would be her trying to look after you, since the club had taken away the one person who was supposed to do that."

"I never blamed the club as a whole, you know. You weren't all involved. It was always, Clay, JT, and Unser," John spit out, face screwed up in revulsion. "They were the only ones I ever blamed for any of it."

"JT and Clay, they acted outside the club about a lot of stuff," Namely things that wouldn't be sanctioned by members with a conscience. "Unser, he's just a lapdog."

"Unser was a lot more than that back in the day," John sneered. "He's given up now. He just does as told. Back then, he wanted things. He wanted power and he wanted Gemma, and since he was never going to get Gemma, he was going to take what little power Clay and JT could give him, and that was my father's job."

"Yeah, well, something tells me he's going to have to answer for his crimes sooner rather than later."

"I hope so."

* * *

 

Stiles had always hated the clubhouse chapel, the ugly ass table, and everything it stood for. He had never bought the brotherhood lie the Sons tried so hard to sell. There were too many deals made under the guise of being for the good of the club, made without the majorities knowledge, too many decisions that should have been put up for vote that never made it to the table that the group suffered for. It wasn't a brotherhood, it was a dictatorship and Clay was at the head of it all, somehow having managed to usurp what should have been Piney's position after John Teller had been killed.

"Was it ever about brotherhood? In the beginning, JT's original vision, was it about brotherhood?" Stiles asked from the president's chair, tracking the Clay's movements as he stepped into the chapel. "Or was it always about power? 'Cause I got to tell you, this chair, this cheap wooden mallet, it doesn't feel very powerful."

"Get the hell up and out of my goddamn clubhouse," Clay ordered, stalking toward him as if he would pull Stiles from the chair by force, if necessary. "You've got no right to be in here."

"I've got more of a right than you do," Stiles had blood in the game, Clay only had skin. "After all, it was my grandfather's death that made all this possible."

He was confident that had his grandfather not been brutally murdered, the club never would have been allowed to run guns through Charming. Without the guns, the club had no means to protect itself from rival organizations. Without the profits from the gun business, there would be less incentive for wayward young men to risk their lives or freedom to join a sorry excuse for an outlaw motorcycle club.

"We would've gotten your grandfather on board eventually, but we would have had to use your father again, and JT promised Piney we wouldn't do that," Clay claimed with a disappointed half-shrug. "You know, in the end, your grandfather made it easy for us. All we had to do was tell him we were ready to make peace, that we were giving up our efforts to bring guns and drugs into Charming, and he came right to our doorstep."

"And you, JT, and Unser shot him in the back like cowards," Stiles had read the autopsy report, three bullets from three different caliber guns were removed from his grandfather’s body. "Couldn't even look him in the eye when you did it."

"Your gramps wasn't making it out of this room whether we looked him in the eye or not," Clay sniggered. "He was standing right at those chapel doors, you know. I think some of his blood might still be in the crevices."

"I'm sure there is," Stiles wouldn't rise to the bait Clay was setting. "So, cats out of the bag. I know everything. Jax knows everything. It's only a matter of time before the club finds out everything you and JT did."

"What we did secured their way of life," Clay pointed out. "I don't think they'll care."

"They'll care if I care, if Jax cares," It wouldn't take much to set the club on a collision course for self destruction. "If Jax and I push against you, they'll pick sides. You sure they'll choose you?"

"The reaper isn't just a patch sewn into leather. It is their loyalty to this club, to each other, and to me," Clay slammed a hand down on the reaper carved into the table. "Some idiot teenager spilling decades old secrets isn't going to change how they feel about this club and what it has given them."

"Despite evidence to the contrary, the club doesn't come first to all of them," Stiles had a feeling that was going to become very clear to the pres when members started to choose between them. "Jax is my brother. My _**protector**_. His loyalty to me will always overpower any he has to this club. Then there is Piney, my surrogate grandfather. His son is my brother in every way but by blood. His daughter-in-law loves me like a son. I am his family. He will choose me.

"Wow. Two people out of the entire club," Clay rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm quaking in my boots."

"Chibs has a daughter my age. He doesn’t get to watch her grow up, but he’s been able to watch me. I don’t think he could bring himself to hurt me or let someone else do it," The Scotsman would struggle to remain neutral, but in the end his refusal to obey Clay's orders would put him on Stiles and Jax's side. "Who does that leave you with? Tig and Bobby. Tig will follow whatever order you give without question. Bobby? He'll hesitate. He'll question you. You can't afford that."

"There are other charters."

"What would it say about you as a leader if you had to call in back up to take out a teenager?" It would be an incredible show of weakness, in Stiles opinion. "You are SAMCRO's president, but I am their family. I have spent my entire life building those bonds. You should remember that."

Stiles rose from the chair and stood in front of Clay. He didn't puff out of his chest or make himself seem taller. He didn't need to appear tougher than he was in the face of someone as weak as his stepfather.

"Things between us, between our families, will come to a head sooner than you realize, but until then, we have to coexist," Thankfully, they would only have to do that for a few more hours. "That means going to these silly dinners Gemma arranges. So I guess I'll see you there."

* * *

 

As a rule, Gemma never expected big family gatherings to go smoothly. Too many conflicting personalities seated around one table made for a combustible situation on the best of days. Copious amounts of alcohol and good food were the only thing that seemed to keep everyone calm and agreeable, which was what Gemma was counting on when she invited everyone over to her and Clay's house for a home-cooked meal.

"Just an ordinary family dinner, that's what this has to look like," Gemma insisted, handing side dishes off to her sons. "That's the only way this works. No one can suspect a thing."

"No one's going to think this is anything but what we're going to make it look like," Stiles assured her, balancing a salad bowl in one hand while taking a butcher knife from the knife block. "Yeah, this will do."

"Where do you think you're going to hide that? In your pants?" Jax snatched the knife out of his brother's hands. "That's a good way to accidently cut your dick off. It stays here. You want something to defend yourself with if shit goes sideways, use a steak knife."

"Like you're not carrying," Stiles groused, clapping his hand over the gun-shaped bulge under Jax's kutte. "I'd use the gun Piney gave me, but I was cleaning it earlier and saw the firing pin was gone."

"Neither of you should be carrying. It's not what we agreed to," Gemma disarmed her eldest, slipping the handgun off his person. "Now, so long as we all play our parts and no one steps out of line, everything should go according to plan."

"Yo, what the..." Stiles blanched, glancing into the dining room to view the full table. "What the hell are my dad and Juice doing here?"

"They're here to make sure you keep your shit together," Gemma gestured to the knife her youngest had tried to sneak to the table. "So you don't pull shit like that."

"Your job tonight isn't to hurt Clay," Jax reminded his little brother. "It is to back him into a corner so he has no choice but to attack. You don't need a knife for that."

"You're supposed to have a different kind of weapon," Gemma acknowledged, giving the teenager a quick once-over, searching for the linchpin of their entire plan. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah, I got it," Stiles patted his shirt pocket. "Hey, you didn't tell my dad what we were doing, did you?"

"Did you think he would let us do this if he knew?" Gemma thumped her youngest upside the head. "The only person who knows, besides the three of us, is Piney."

"We need to get this food out there," Jax motioned toward the dining room with plate of garlic bread in his hands. "Someone might get suspicious, all of us in here."

"All right," Gemma lifted the roast pan with the potholders. "Let's go."

The table was at full capacity, hungry men crowded around, practically foaming at the mouth over the prospect of food that didn't come from a drive-thru or need to be microwaved. Even under the circumstances, Gemma was happy to cater to their salivating palates, dolling out generous portions to each of them.

"Looks great, Gem," Chibs praised her, greedily stuffing food into his mouth before she'd even set his plate down. "Haven't had a meal like this in a long time."

"Yeah, you haven't done one of these dinners in a while," Tig mentioned, snagging more than his fair share of garlic bread. "What's this all about? What’s the special occasion?"

"I wanted to give Johnny and the boys a nice welcome home," She flashed the Stilinski men a warm smile, playing up her part. "And there are some things we need to discuss, since we're all going to be spending a lot more time together."

"Oh yeah?" Clay took a long swig from his beer. "What things would that be?"

"How we're all going to learned to get along, live in close proximity to each other without killing one another," Stiles remarked, slipping into the free chair at Clay's right. "I mean, it probably wouldn't be much of a problem, but you do have a track record of abusing and murdering members of my family."

"What?" Bobby Elvis coughed around a mouthful of food. "What are you talking about?

"Stiles," John tensed, eyes flickering between his son and the man at the head of the table. "Stiles, what are you doing?"

"Relax, Johnny," Piney urged the elder Stilinski. "Everything's all right."

"You best choose your next words carefully, kid," Clay warned him, voice tight and deceptively controlled. "This won't end how you want it to."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Stiles smirked, taking his cellphone from his pocket and setting it on the table. "You see, when I went into the chapel today, I knew the conversation you and I were going to have. I knew you weren't going to pretend like you had no idea what I was talking about. You wouldn't be able to help but rub what you did in my face. You were going to confess. With that in mind, I made sure to have my phone set to record."

Gemma had never seen Stiles as at peace, as relaxed, as he was when he pressed 'play' on that cellphone. In contrast, she'd never seen an entire table full of outlaws go rigid the way they did when Stiles and Clay's voices began to filter through the small speaker.

> _"It was my grandfather's death that made all this possible."_
> 
> _"We would've gotten your grandfather on board eventually, but we would have had to use your father again, and JT promised Piney we wouldn't do that. You know, in the end, your grandfather made it easy for us. All we had to do was tell him we were ready to make peace, that we were giving up our efforts to bring guns and drugs into Charming, and he came right to our doorstep."_
> 
> _"And you, JT, and Unser shot him in the back like cowards. Couldn't even look him in the eye when you did it."_
> 
> _"Your gramps wasn't making it out of this room whether we looked him in the eye or not. He was standing right at those chapel doors, you know. I think some of his blood might still be in the crevices."_

"In case you're wondering, I've already sent a copy to the cops," Stiles turned the recording off, hiding the phone away in his pocket once more. "San Joaquin PD, not local jurisdiction. Wasn't going to risk Unser sweeping it under the rug. After all, he's implicated too."

A beat of silence. Two beats. Three. A pin could have dropped in that dining room and it would have sounded like a gunshot. No one moved. No one breathed. They waited, they watched, expecting the explosion that was moments away from erupting.

The police sirens came first, wailing in the distance, several blocks away at least, but they could have been right outside the front door from the reaction they set off. Once Clay was out of his chair, no one could say for sure who pulled first. By the time the police, ambulance, and the coroners van were all parked outside, there were multiple weapons collected for evidence, half a dozen suspects being questioned, one person headed for the hospital and another to the morgue.


	8. you've given enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from: [When Your Heart is a Stranger by Friends in Paris](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGdzMgnY34M)  
> Gif sets: [Murder](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187433182541/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-murder-ill-give-you), [Conspired](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187520089931/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-conspired-jax-wears), [The Problem](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187531103831/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-the-problem-youve)

There was blood on John's hands that didn't belong to him. It soaked his shirt, stained his pants, and stuck to the bottom of his shoes. If he looked in the mirror, he was sure he would find flecks of it sprayed across his neck and the side of his face. The blood wasn't his, but he was responsible for putting it there.

"It's okay, baby," Gemma murmured softly, sliding a wet cloth over his calloused fingertips, washing away the evidence of what he had done. "He'll be okay."

"I know."

Two bodies had dropped in the night. One had been pronounced D.O.A. at the scene; the other had been taken to St. Thomas Hospital for treatment. John was thankful that the one holding their own was the right one. As for the dead, well, no one was wasting any tears on him, not even his wife.

"I want to say-- I want to tell you that I'm sorry, Gemma," He could form the words on his lips, but they would lack the sincerity to make them meaningful. "He was your husband, but he... He hurt my son. He hurt _**our**_ son."

"He tried to kill our boy," Gemma said calmly, still so composed even with everything she had seen and lost that night. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"He pointed a gun at our child and pulled the trigger," It was an image John would never be able to shake from his memory. "I couldn't let him do it again."

"You did the right thing," Gemma caressed the line of his jaw. "You don't ever have to apologize for that. You understand?"

"He tried to kill our son."

John was a soldier, a police officer; he had taken lives in the line of duty, on the battlefield. Those deaths had sat with him, kept him up at night, and sent him to the bottle on occasion. He felt the weight of those lives every day, he felt guilt over having to take them.

This... This was different. This was a shot taken in a dining room over dinner. This was the murder of a man he knew, a man he hated. It was as justified as any other act of violence John had ever committed, but the heavy burden of guilt that usually followed...it just wasn't there.

"Stiles is going to be all right," Gemma was confident of that fact, had repeated those words to him half a dozen times since they had arrived at the hospital. "Jax was already pulling him out of the way when Clay fired. There's no way he got a direct hit."

"Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski?" A grey-haired man wearing scrubs, a lab coat, and a nametag reading Dr. V. Strand addressed them. “Are you the parents of Mieczysław-Nathaniel Stilinski?”

"Yes," John took Gemma's hand in his, bracing himself for whatever bad news the doctor had to give them. "You've been treating our son?"

"I have. He's doing well, resting now," Dr. Strand assured them. "I know there was a lot of blood and that must have been frightening, but luckily the bullet was a flesh wound, nothing vital was hit. We stitched him up, gave him some pain medicine and antibiotic to prevent an infection. The wound will probably leave a nasty scar, nothing a plastic surgeon can't fix."

"That's good news," Gemma smiled, squeezing John's hand. "When will we be able to take him home?"

"Actually, I would like to keep him a few hours for observation," The doctor offered them a look of apology as he put a hold on any talk of Stiles leaving just yet. "Minimal damage aside, he was still shot, and that's a trauma both to his physical body and his mental state. I just want to make sure he doesn't go into shock once the adrenaline wears off."

"Okay." John had been shot before, he understood that even the smallest wounds could have a negative impact on ones psyche. "When do you think we'll be able to take him home? Because I promise you, he will stage a breakout as soon as he regains consciousness."

"Well, we're going to give him a few hours to sleep, and then I'll have a counselor come speak with him, make sure he's in a good headspace," Dr. Strand studied the chart in his hands. "If everything looks good, I'd say we could have him discharged early this afternoon."

"Okay," Half a day, that wasn't too long, it could have been a lot worse. "Thank you so much, Dr. Strand, for taking care of our son."

"Of course," Dr. Strand nodded and took a moment to shake each of their hands. "I need to check on another patient, but a nurse will be by to show you to your son's room."

"Thank you."

* * *

 

Stiles had never done well in a hospital setting, as a patient or a visitor. The constant noise made him anxious, the beep and whir of machinery, the rush of footsteps in the corridors, the muffled wails of ambulance sirens, it was endless and obtrusive. Stiles was a mover by nature, being stuck in a hospital bed waiting for the doctor's to decide he was well enough to be released only increased his usual restlessness.

He didn't enjoy that trapped feeling a hospital left him with, no one did, which was why he had convinced his father and Gemma to go home, to shower and sleep, just as soon as he was aware enough to express his wishes. And, okay, maybe it wasn't a completely selfless act made out of concern for their wellbeing. It was entirely possible that he just needed them out of the way so he could execute his escape plan. Of course, he wasn't counting on Unser throwing a wrench in things.

"I'm trying to understand what happened last night," Unser sighed heavily, closing the door to give them privacy to talk. "Things just aren't adding up."

"I'm not surprised someone as brain dead as you is having some difficulties," Stiles muttered, fidgeting with the IV in his arm. "Maybe Deputy Hale or the San Joaquin Sheriffs could help you out."

"A man is dead, Stiles. A friend of mine," Unser glowered, leaning over the footboard of the hospital bed. "He's lying on a slab in the morgue right now. I need to find out what happened. That's my job."

"Really? I thought it was your job to clean up after Clay," Throughout Stiles entire life, his time in Charming, that was all he had ever seen Unser do. "Scrubbing him off Gemma's walls fits your job description better than actually solving a crime."

"Hey!" Wayne snapped, taking offense to Stiles lack of empathy. "Have some respect for the dead."

"I didn't respect him while he was alive. Why the fuck would I respect him now that he's a corpse?" Stiles scoffed, shaking his head. "You know, I know your badge and uniform are just a cheap prop and costume, but even you should know that you're not supposed to be talking to me without a parent or guardian present. I'm a minor."

"You're a witness, a victim, not a suspect," Unser retorted, shrugging his shoulders. "I know you and Clay have had your issues, but he's never resorted to violence before. What set him off tonight?"

"Didn't the others tell you?" Stiles assumed Unser had saved him for the last interview, knowing he would give him the most lip. "Or did you not even bother doing the bare minimum of your job requirements?"

"Everyone that I have spoken to so far has said Clay attacked you unprovoked."

"And that is exactly what you're going to put in your police report," The last police report he would ever file once Stiles was through with him. "Then you will hand in your resignation and walk away from Charming PD with your pension, which is far more than you deserve."

"Why on earth would I do that?" Unser furrowed his brows in confusion. "What happened last night that makes you think you can coerce me into giving up my livelihood?"

"Oh, just a recording I have of Clay confessing to murdering my grandfather so he and John Teller could open up a pipeline to bring guns and drugs through Charming." His phone was probably in an evidence bag at Charming PD by now, but he had made copies, sent the recording to a series of secure devices, including his father's own phone, just in case he lost the original. "After I played the recording for Clay, I told him I sent it to the San Joaquin Sheriffs, but I haven't yet. I will, though, if I have to."

"You recorded Clay confessing to a crime and then you threatened him with it," Unser blanched, disbelief painting his features. "What, you thought he would just fall in line and do whatever you told him to do?"

"No. No, I expected him to react exactly the way he did," That reaction was the point, why Stiles had made the recording in the first place. "You are the one who is going to fall in line."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you are implicated on that tape too, along with John Teller," Unfortunately, to Stiles disappointment, John Teller wouldn't have to face any consequences for his actions. "You fired one of the shots. You covered it up. You used your position at Charming PD to protect your co-conspirators. It was all pre-meditated. That is murder with special circumstances. That's the death penalty."

"Inmates spend decades on death row before getting a needle in their arm," Unser tutted, seemingly unbothered by the threat. "I'm a cancer ridden old man. I might get a few years, but eventually I'll get a compassionate release."

"You think you'd survive a few years? You're a cop, dirty or not, that's not going to sit well with the other cons," Stiles couldn't picture the piece of shit lasting a week in prison. "You think the club would protect you inside? I don't. They didn't protect Clay at his own dinner table. You should have seen them sitting back and doing nothing as my dad put a bullet in his head."

There was a certain amount of shock that came with seeing your leader pull a gun on a teenager. Stiles couldn't really blame the club for freezing, although he's sure Clay did in the half-a-second he had left to process before Stiles father put him down.

"Jax is their president now. He's the one calling the shots," Stiles had every intention of making damn sure his older brother made the right ones. "He's not going to task the prison charter to protect you. You want to avoid prison and a needle in your arm, you'll do as you’re told."

"Give up my badge," Unser touched a hand to the tin on pinned to his uniform. "Put in my papers."

"You can give it up willingly or it can be taken from you," It was not a tough decision. "You choose right, you keep your life and your freedom. Choose wrong, you lose everything. And the only reason I'm giving you a choice and not just selling you down the river is because I don't want your wife and children to be collateral damage to shit they had no control over."

If he sent the recording to the San Joaquin Sheriffs or the district attorney, the investigation that followed would prove Wayne was as dirty as they come, and Della Unser and her kids would lose everything. Wayne's pension, his benefits, anything he had earned in his years on the force would be pulled by the county, because the corrupt and their families weren't entitled to anything. Stiles understood why things had to be that way, but he knew Della and the Unser children, and they didn't deserve to suffer for Wayne's mistakes.

"I don't think you appreciate how badly I want to see you stand trial, to watch you answer for your crimes against my family and this entire town," Stiles fully believed that any action taken by Unser to assist Clay or the club was a direct hit to Charming itself. "I'm giving you a chance to avoid that. I am giving you a chance to protect your family for once in your miserable life. Put in your papers. Retire. Let David Hale or someone with more experience take over and try to fix the system you broke."

"You know, you're pretty self-righteous for someone who more or less admitted to setting Clay up last night," Unser thrust an accusing finger out in Stiles direction. "You barked so he'd bite and one of your protectors could put him down. You orchestrated his death, the same way he and I and John Teller orchestrated your grandfather's."

"And I have to live with that," Stiles wasn't so blinded by rage that he couldn't see the similarities. "The difference is, you killed my grandfather to make a quick buck. You killed him for profit. Clay's death, that was about justice. Long overdue justice."

* * *

 

The first chapel without Clay was a somber affair. The club members had trickled in slowly, the weight of grief and confusion bearing down on their shoulders. Jax could see they were struggling, unable to fully comprehend or process what that had witnessed the previous night.

"This isn't how I wanted to move into this seat," Jax announced, holding the president’s gavel in his hands. "A lot of you probably think I'm not ready to lead. I have my doubts too. There are still things I need to learn. That's why I've asked Piney to be my V.P., to help me figure things out."

"It's only temporary," Piney grunted, settling into the chair at Jax's left. "Just until Opie gets out."

"I know we're all still in shock over what happened, but there are things we need to talk about," Jax couldn't wait around for them to come to terms with what Clay had done or what had been done to him. "Number one being, there won't be any retaliation against the Stilinski family."

"Clay made the first move, we all saw that," Piney reminded them. "Johnny was protecting his boy when he fired that shot."

"No one here is disputing that," Chibs chimed in, pursing his lips. "But other charters might not see things that way. They know Stiles is your brother, Jackie, they'll think you're protecting the lad and his old man."

"Which is why we need you guys to run interference," Jax hated to put that burden on his guys, but he wouldn't put his brother or John at risk. "Put the word out. Make sure everyone knows what really happened."

"Any moves made against the Stilinskis will be treated as a move against the club," Piney decided, voice full of authority. "If anyone wearing a kutte retaliates against Johnny or Stiles, they will be treated as a traitor."

"What about that recording?" Tig piped up, cigarette dangling from his lips. "Stiles said he sent it to the San Joaquin Sheriffs. They look into it, into our businesses, we can all be in a world of shit."

"Stiles hasn't sent the tape yet and he isn't going to," They had all agreed the tape was just to get a rise out of Clay and maybe Unser, but that was it. "He wouldn't put us all in the crosshairs like that."

"What's on that tape is important and you all needed to hear it," Piney took a moment to make eye contact with each and every man sitting at the table before continuing. "What JT, Clay, and Unser did to Henry Stilinski was not club sanctioned. What Clay did to Johnny when he was boy was not club sanctioned."

"Clay tortured a teenager. My dad, Clay, and Unser murdered an innocent man. All to secure the gun business," Jax had known his father's role in Henry Stilinski's death since he was a child, but it was still something he had yet to make peace with. "They had to go outside the club to do that, because the club wouldn't have approved it, not over some guns."

"JT's original vision for this club, it wasn't guns or drugs or violence," Piney recalled, having been the only other founding member of the Sons of Anarchy, long before Clay and the rest of the First Nine donned the reaper. "It was simple. It was a brotherhood. It was freedom. Hippie shit, you know."

"I know everyone has gotten used to the perks, to the payday the gun business has given us," Jax wasn't looking forward to a lighter wallet, but he would do what was necessary to right his father's wrongs. "But we're going to have to find other ways to earn, because we are leaving that business behind."

"We're doing what?" Tig balked, paling considerably. "Look, my heart bleeds for what happened to Stiles’ grandpa and all, but it was, like, thirty fucking years ago."

"Henry Stilinski isn't the only life that's been lost to that business," While it was the notable death, the one stuck in Jax's mind because it hit too close to home, it was hardly the only one. "This shit has cost us more than it has ever given us."

"Hey, I understand that need to walk away from that business. Guns are dirty, no doubt," Bobby said pragmatically. "But we're not the only charter involved in that business, and like you said, we've all gotten used to the payday. The club is not going to want to walk away from that."

"No one said this was going to be an easy transition," Piney drawled, tapping his index finger on the hard wood of the table. "It's going to take time and a lot of negotiation. We're going to lose money and we're going to lose connections."

"It's what is necessary for our survival," The way Jax saw it, nothing good could ever come from the gun business, it was only ever going to lead them down the path of destruction. "I understand if some of you don't agree with it, but it's the way things have to be. Legitimate businesses are the only thing that will eliminate risk and keep us all from getting killed."

"We're not putting anything up to vote just yet," Piney assured them. "None of us are in the right state of mind for it. We need to grieve this loss, and then we need to think long and hard about what's right for the club, for our families."

“Look, I know giving up the guns, the money, it’s a lot to ask,” Jax wasn’t ignorant to that. “But I do believe it’s what’s best for the club. In the long run, we’ll all be better for it. I hope you all feel the same way after you’ve had some time to think about it.”

* * *

 

Juice had wanted to follow John and Gemma to the hospital behind the ambulance Stiles had been transported in, but he couldn't risk the local cops running his name if they found him at the house with a dead body. He wasn't a wanted fugitive or anything, not that he was aware of anyway, but John wasn't his legal guardian just yet and he didn't want them to call his mom and alert her to what was going on. As soon as the sirens closed in, he bolted out the back door, and headed up to the cabin where the club had detoxed him.

Piney had called to give him the all clear sometime mid-morning. Juice had hiked back to town on foot and headed straight for the hospital to check in on and his friend. He was lucky to find him alone, twiddling his thumbs with nothing to do.

"You want this back?" Juice asked by way of greeting, holding a cellphone with a bright blue case up for the other kid to see. "Whatever games you got loaded up on here have got to be more entertaining than counting the ceiling tiles."

"Is that my phone?" Stiles asked, making grabby hands at the device. "Gimme. Gimme."

"Take it," Juice handed the phone off to its rightful owner. "Slipped it into my pocket before the cops showed up. Wasn't sure if you wanted them to have it."

"Thank you," Stiles said gratefully. "Seriously, dude, good looking out."

"Yeah, no problem," Juice grinned, choosing to sit cross-legged by Stiles feet rather than plop his ass down in an uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed. "Malia's been texting you, by the way. She wants to do something with you this weekend."

"I don't think Dad's going to let me out of the house for a while, you know," Stiles poked at the lump of bandages hidden beneath the hospital gown. "You didn't happen to text her back and tell her what happened did you?"

"No," He had the phone and he saw the messages, but replying to texts felt like a step over the line. "Did you want me to?"

"No," Stiles shook his head. "No need to worry anyone if we don't have to."

"Right," Juice got the sense that Malia would probably drop everything to come check on Stiles herself if she knew he was hurt. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Did you and Malia ever date?" It felt strange to ask, romantic entanglements were a topic he and Stiles hadn't broached yet in their friendship. "I mean, I kinda of get this vibe that there was something there."

"Oh, uh, no. We never, um, dated," Stiles pulled the blankets up higher around him. "We, uh, had this sort of casual thing for awhile. It wasn't dating, it was just..."

"Sex," Juice had a few relationships like that in his own past. "Not anymore?"

"No, not anymore. Um. I mean, it started while we were in Eichen House, and it really shouldn't have. Neither of us was in the right, uh, mental state, you know," Stiles scratched the side of his head. "We shouldn't have been doing it, is what I'm saying. For many reasons."

"Right."

"Why the inquiries about me and Malia?" Stiles questioned, cocking his head to the side. "You into her? 'Cause that's cool, you know. I wouldn't stand in the way of that. What she and I had was totally casual, there weren't feeling involved. You two could be good together--"

"No, Stiles, I was just curious," Juice held up a hand to stop the onslaught coming from his friend’s mouth. "You and I have never really talked about that kind of stuff. I was wondering what your deal was. And I'm trying to take your mind off what happened last night, I'm sure it's all anyone’s been talking to you about since you woke up."

"Well, you're not wrong," Stiles huffed, relaxing back against the pillows. "So you want to know my _**deal**_. What is this deal you speak of?"

"Girls? Boys? Sock puppets? A combination or variation of the three?"

"Sock puppets aside, I don't think it's as simple for me as a gender, you know. I mean, objectively, I find both boys and girls to be attractive, but on a sex level..." Stiles grimaced. "Malia's the only person I've ever been with that way. I don't have a lot of experience there, but the experience I do have..."

"Didn't feel great?"

"It felt good, the orgasm was nice, but all in all it felt...mechanical, I guess," Stiles admitted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "There was something missing, and no matter how many times we did it, I just couldn't find that...spark or whatever that's supposed to make sex this big amazing thing."

"Intimacy," Juice would wager that is what Stiles had been missing in his previous sexual encounters. "You need an emotional connection with someone for sex to have the 'wow' factor."

"Oh," Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, considering that for a moment. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Some people need it, some people don't."

"Do you?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I've ever had sex when I wasn't high," Juice confessed, trying to recall a moment where sobriety and sex overlapped. "I've been a junkie longer than I've been having sex. The drugs kind of acted as a stand-in or just took away the need for a lot of things, intimacy being one of them."

"Did you have a girlfriend back in Queens?" Stiles asked, taking his turn to ask the questions. "Or a boyfriend?"

"A few of each on occasion," He had never been picky about who he chose to share his bed with. "Never anyone steady."

"Without the drugs, uh," Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly. "What, uh, what do you think you'd be into?"

"I don't know," He'd never really thought much on it before. "Someone nice."

"Guess that takes me out of the running."

"I don't know about that," Juice wouldn't write him off just yet. "You're pretty much the nicest person I know."

"Oh." Stiles ducked his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well. Hmm."

"’ _Hmm’_?"

"Hmm."

* * *

 

You didn't get to be Piney's age without burying a few friends over the years. More and more of them dropped each year, giving him plenty of chances to pay his respect to the rest of the dead. Out of all of the people in his life, he never thought he would be the one to make to a ripe old age, that he would have had to bury two of his closest friends, JT Teller and Henry Stilinski while they were still so young, still had so much to do.

"Still had babies to raise," Piney mumbled to the headstone displaying the name _ **'HENRY NICHOLAE STILINSKI’.**_ "Johnny might've been a teenager at the time, but he was still your baby."

Piney could remember Johnny fresh out of his mama's womb, incubating in the NICU at St. Thomas hospital because he'd been born nearly two months premature. He'd sat for hours with the kid to give Henry and Blythe a break. A few short years later, when Henry had returned from Vietnam torn up and injured, Piney had sat with that little boy again, this time in the waiting room of the V.A. hospital, playing with matchbox cars to keep him occupied.

"Tried to be there for him after you passed," Piney had ultimately failed at that task, and he'd never forgiven himself for it. "He couldn't hear me. He couldn't hear anyone. He was just lost. Didn't stick around long enough to let anyone help him. We put you in the ground and that boy was just gone."

Johnny had skipped town only hours after he had buried his father. He had done his duty, of course. He spoke at the funeral, shook hands with everyone at the wake, and then he had just disappeared.

"He came home different, not quite healed but getting there. He was stronger. More comfortable in his own skin," Piney hadn't worried so much about him after seeing what distance had done for him. "He still needed you, though. Especially after Stiles was born. There are just some things a man shouldn't have to learn how to be on his own and a daddy is one of them."

Johnny had kept to himself those first few months after Stiles was born, so Piney couldn't say if he'd struggled through it, but he remembered what being a first time father was like for him. When Opie had been born, Piney hadn't been alone, he had a wife and the club to help him figure it out, but it still remained one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Johnny had nothing, no one; he had been isolated from everyone as he learned the ups and downs of parenthood, Piney couldn't imagine how difficult that must have been.

"He's damn good father. He really is. He dotes on that boy and that kid adores him," It beautiful thing to witness, Stiles and Johnny's bond, there was nothing else like it. "God, I wish you could meet your grandson. He is something else. A spitfire. I would have paid to see you chase him around the station the way I did the clubhouse."

From the time Stiles could stand up on two feet, he was running circles around the club. Pulling pranks, causing mischief, getting into anything and everything he possibly could. They let him do it too, if only because none of them could keep up with him.

"He's a little unsure of himself these days," No one could fault Stiles for it, not after all he had been through over the last few years. "He reminds me a bit of you when you came home after your last tour. That’s how I know he'll be okay, because you were. Just gonna take some more time."

Stiles wasn't a soldier but he'd been through his own war, so to speak. He had defeated his enemies, protected his family. He had done things that made him question what kind of man he was, made him look in the mirror and be uncomfortable with the reflection looking back at him. Piney didn't doubt for a second that Stiles could recover. One day, the kid would overcome the darkness his trials had left him with, and would stand as proud and strong as his father and grandfather had before him.

"There's a new one too. Another grandson. Johnny took in a boy. A foster son, Juan Carlos," Piney couldn't update his friend on the family without mentioning the newest addition. "He's had his troubles, but he's a sweet kid. A little too sweet, I think."

Given the state the teenager had shown up in, Piney was amazed by the child-like innocence that seemed to encompass Juice at times. It was a testament to the boy's strength, he supposed, that he could still retain that after everything he had survived. Piney didn't have specifics, it wasn't his place to ask, but it was clear life had taken that kid to task a time or two, and the kid had stood right back up and asked for more with a big ole grin on his face.

"Sweet or not, the kid's tough, resilient, fits right in with your boys," The family had two had welcomed a third member with open arms, never questioning his place or his right to be there. He was one of them from the moment he came into their lives. "You'd be real proud of them. All of them."

* * *

 

The doctor finally found him fit enough to be discharged around noon. That may or may not have had something to do with the two escape attempts he had made when left alone for longer than ten minutes. He imagined the staff putting in an irate phone call to his father, boiling down to something like " _Come retrieve your child now or else_." The 'else', he suspected, being the psych ward or hospital security office.

"Thanks for bringing me a change of clothes," Stiles didn't know what happened to the blood-soaked ones he had come to the hospital in, but he was happy he wouldn't have to wear them again. "Uh, where's my dad?"

"Signing paperwork at the receptions desk," Gemma replied, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping on the floor impatiently. "You about ready?"

"Yeah," He rolled his eyes, stuffing his feet into his sneakers. "I want to get out of here more than anybody, but you seem in a rush yourself. What's going on? Got a hot date?"

"I have to plan my husband's funeral," Gemma fumed, face twisted in annoyance. "Unless there are any other family members you need me to help you murder?"

"Oh, uh, no. No, not off the top of my head," Any beef he had with her family died with Clay. "I'll give you a call if I think of someone else."

"So help me God, Stiles," Gemma warned him, shaking her head. "One of these days..."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Stiles wasn't so unsympathetic that he couldn't recognize her pain. "Clay was your husband, a bastard, but your husband. You okayed his execution, but you're still grieving him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're going through that again."

"Look, I don't regret what we did, Stiles," Gemma admitted, raking a hand through her hair. "But you cannot expect me to feel good about it."

"I don't. I'm sorry," He didn't know what else he could do besides apologize. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing, baby," She sighed, pressing her lips to his cheek. "Come on, let's go."

Gemma interlaced their fingers and led him out to the waiting room. His father was finishing up a conversation about post-op care with the doctors, standing by the elevators, waiting expectantly for Stiles and Gemma to join him.

"Let's get you home," The older man wrapped Stiles in a hug, acting like he hadn't seen him in days when in reality he'd been in and out of the hospital room morning. "You'll be more comfortable resting in your own bed. Juice set up your video games and the DVD player too, so you won't be bored."

"All that stuff was already set up," In his room at their home in Beacon Hills at least. "We're staying in Charming tonight?"

"Leaving town might look suspicious until the investigation is complete," John reasoned, pressing the button to open the elevator doors. "By the time it's all said and done, chances are all our stuff will be at the house in Charming already anyway. It just makes sense to stay."

"I've got to pick up Clay's personal effects in the morgue," Gemma mentioned, fiddling anxiously with the bracelet on her wrist. "Sign a few things."

"You want us to come with you?" His dad asked, frowning. "You don't have to do it alone."

"I'll be fine, baby," She assured him. "I'll meet you at the car."

"Okay," The older man offered her a tight smile as he and Stiles stepped onto the elevator. "You know where we'll be."

"She'll be okay," Stiles said as the elevator doors closed, noting the tense set of his father's jaw. "She's tough."

"Loss hits us all the same way, no matter how tough we are," His father remarked, hitting the button that would take them to the main level of the hospital. "You know, it's interesting that something like this would happen just as we're getting ready to move to Charming."

"What, that a man who brought so much pain to our family was finally punished before he could bring anymore?" Sure, Stiles might call that interesting. "Yeah, it's almost like the universe, fate, and the grim reaper conspired to make sure Charming would be safe for us."

"And which one are you?" His dad inquired, tone void of judgment or emotion. "Jax wears the reaper, so I guess I don't have to ask who he'd be. That just leaves you and Gem as fate and the universe."

"Fate," Stiles confessed, dropping his gaze to his feet. "I'd be fate."

"Gemma's more the universe type," John nodded, rubbing his temples. "If Jax is the reaper, I'll take that to mean he was supposed to pull the trigger, not me."

“It was supposed to be Gemma. You weren’t supposed to be the one…," Stiles hadn't even wanted him to be there that night, Gemma had invited him at the last minute, without Stiles knowledge or permission. "I never wanted to make you do something like that. I’m sorry.”

" I think sometimes you get tunnel vision," The older man draped an arm around Stiles shoulders. "You set your sights on something and everything else fall away. You forget things don't always go according to plan. You forget other people will be affected by your decisions."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Stiles clenched his fists, feeling tears well in his eyes. "It's just... We were never going to be safe if he was still here. _**You**_ were never going to be safe. I had to make sure we were safe."

"I love you for that, I really do," His father tightened his hold. "But it is not your job to protect our family, it's mine. I would never have made the decision to move us to Charming if I thought I couldn't keep us safe. Did you not trust me to do that?"

"I trust you to keep me safe," Out of everyone in his entire life, Stiles trusted no one more than his father. "It's you that I worry about. You don't protect yourself. You would be so focused on protecting me or Juice or even Gemma and Jax that you would forget about yourself, and I... I ca-- I can't let something happen to you. I can't lose you. I wasn't going to let him take you from me."

"We are going to have a long talk about this when things settle," His dad told him. "All of us, you, me, Gemma, and Jax."

"How did you know?" Stiles couldn't help but wonder if they had let on somehow. "How did you know what happened was...."

"Planned? If the impromptu dinner in our honor was strange, but it didn't set off too many alarm bells. The recording you played for Clay, though..." His dad trailed off, clicking his tongue. "You did that to incite a reaction and you knew there was only one way he would react."

"Oh," The recording had been necessary; the only way to guarantee Clay would lose his temper. "I know I said that I sent the tape to the cops, but..."

"It could backfire, put too much heat on your brother and his club."

"Unser's still out at Charming PD," Stiles had made damn sure of that. "He's not quite on board yet, but he will be."

"No more blood, Stiles."

"No more blood," There wouldn't be a need for any more of that. "I promise."

* * *

 

After completing the necessary paperwork regarding her husband's body, what was to be done about his remains, the morgue attendants were kind enough to allow Gemma few moments alone with him. She was grateful for it. There were things she needed to say, to get off her chest before she laid her second husband to rest.

"Had to be done, sweetheart," She cupped his cheek through the white sheet covering his body. "Did you think you could get away with it forever? Not with my boys around."

Her sons were always going to be the catalyst, would be the ones to right what JT and Clay had wronged. For a time it was only Jax, and she feared it was battle he would have to fight on his own. When Stiles was born, everything she changed, her eldest son suddenly had a partner to join him in a war very personal to the two of them.

"I did what I could to fix it. I tried to make it right," Gemma murmured softly. "I gave Johnny a son, a piece of family for the one you took from him."

She hadn't led Johnny to her bed with the intent of getting knocked up, but fate worked in mysterious ways. As soon as she had felt the pangs of morning sickness, realized she carried his child inside of her, she knew she couldn't be the one to raise him. If that baby was ever going to grow into what he needed to be to stand at his brother's side, he had to be raised outside of Charming, away from the clubs draw. He needed to be a different kind of man.

"I always knew you would die at the hands of a son," She hadn't thought it would work out quite the way it did, though. "I assumed it would be one of mine, Jax or Stiles. I never imagined it would be Henry's. I was hoping it would be, though, when I invited him to dinner."

It was the closure Johnny had always sought but never found. It was a gift Gemma had given him when she invited him to dinner, one she doubted he would ever thank her for. She was pretty sure her boys would rally against her if they ever discovered she never had any intention of pulling the trigger on Clay herself.

"Gemma," Wayne interrupted her with a pointed cough. "I don't mean to--"

“What do you want?" She didn't mean to be short with her friend, but she was trying to have a private moment with her dead husband. "I'm in the middle of something."

"I questioned Stiles this morning. He threatened me with some kind of recording," Wayne revealed, hands on his utility belt. "Said it implicated me in Henry Stilinski's death."

"It does," Her youngest had been thorough, managing to get Clay to cop to the murder and confirm the others involved. "What does he want you to do?"

"Retire or he'll give the recording to the San Joaquin Sheriffs."

"The sheriffs open an investigation on you, there's no telling what skeletons they'll find in your closet," Gemma wasn't privy to every little thing he had ever done for the club, but she knew enough to know that if it all came out, he wouldn't fare well. "You need to do what Stiles told you to do. Retire."

"You're not going to help me?" Wayne recoiled from her, taken aback by her refusal. "You're not going to try to stop him?"

"I need to help my boys do what they have to do," It was her job as their mother to do everything in her power to make sure they succeeded. "You need to think about your own family, Wayne. Do you really want to put Della and your children through a trial? It's not only your reputation you'll be ruining. You go down, they go down with you."

"What do you think happens if I put in my papers?" Wayne questioned, his temper flaring. "Hale will take over. You think he's going to do for the club what I do?"

"No," It wasn't something she was too worried about at the moment. "We'll figure it out. We always do."

"Gemma--"

"It's time to rest, Wayne," They all deserved a nice long break from the bullshit Clay and JT had left them with. "Your retirement can be a punishment or a reward, it's your choice."

* * *

 

Jax wasn't expecting any push back over Clay's death, but he still planned to stick close to his brother and his family, on the off chance that someone stepped out of line. In this case, that meant convincing John to let him crash with them for the foreseeable future.

"Just until things settle down," Jax claimed, setting his dufflebag on the floor. "After the funeral and all that shit, you know."

"You're more than welcome to stay. I'm sure Stiles would love it," John said as he unpacked one of the many moving boxes spread throughout the house. "But I've already got a full house. I mean, besides the boys, I've got Gemma."

"Gemma?"

"Her home is a crime scene, so I told her she could stay here for as long as she needs to. I'd offer you the couch," The older man waved a hand at the orange monstrosity that looked like it was pulled straight out of the seventies. "But Gemma's insisting on taking it. I told her she'd be more comfortable in the master bedroom, she won't listen."

"Well, I don't mind bunking with Stiles," He would prefer it, actually. "Someone should probably watch him tonight anyway, right? 'Cause he's hurt and all?"

"You're a little old to be sharing a bed," John chuckled. "I don't think you both would fit anyway. You'd have to sleep on the floor."

"That's fine," He shrugged, toughing it out on the hardwood floor wouldn't be a bother. "Where is Stiles? They hospital released him, didn't they?"

"Yeah, he's asleep right now," John glanced down the hall toward the bedrooms. "The meds make him drowsy."

"He's okay, though, right?" Jax hadn't been able to visit his brother during his short hospital stay, there had been too much club business to get through. "They wouldn't have released him if he wasn't okay, right?"

"Right," John patted his shoulder. "He'll be sore for a few days, have a nasty scar to show for it, but he'll be fine."

"Good. That’s good."

"And you?" John asked, setting the box to give Jax his full attention. "Clay was your stepfather--"

"He shot my brother," The reaction had been expected, but when they had set the plan in motion, Jax had every intention of Stiles being safely out of the line of fire before Clay could get a shot off. "He deserved to die."

"It's okay to feel bad about it, Jackson," John acknowledged thoughtfully. "You're allowed to grieve. He's been a father to you since before your own died. It's okay."

"I don't feel bad about it," Jax didn't feel much at all for Clay anymore. "Maybe I will, eventually, but right now there's nothing."

"Okay," John took Jax at his word, but his concern remained. "Well, if you need to talk about it or anything..."

"I know," That was a door Jax had always known was open. "Thank you."

* * *

 

Since Juice had done a good portion of the packing at the house in Beacon Hills, John had been adamant that he wouldn't be left to do the unpacking at the new place on his own. He went as far to let Juice off the hook entirely, telling him he'd take care of it himself until Stiles was healed up enough to help. Juice would have insisted on doing his part, so not to seem rude, but Gemma had sent him off to his room with instructions to " _Sleep, watch TV, or jerk off. You know, normal teenage boy stuff."_ Juice didn't feel comfortable jerking off after being told to do it, so he settled for working on his computer.

The thing about trying to put a computer together with discounted, used, and salvaged parts was that it took time and more effort than it was probably worth. The bright side was it was something Juice enjoyed, something he was good at. It was so easy for him to get fixated, lost in all the components, to zone out and focus solely on the job that needed to be done that the rest of the world faded away.

"It's kind of mesmerizing," Stiles' voice broke into his trance-like state. "Seeing you do that, I mean. Watching your hands move, how confident you are with every step you take..."

"It's just a little re-wiring," It was a menial task at best. "Nothing special."

"You're building something," Stiles gestured toward the pile of spare parts covering the desk and bed. "That's special."

"Sure," Juice had never really thought of it that way. "I thought you were asleep. How long you been standing there?"

"Not long," The other boy's cheeks tinted pink. "I wasn't trying to be creepy or anything."

"Didn't think you were," ' _Creepy_ ' was the last word Juice would use to describe him. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Um, I was, uh," Stiles shifted awkwardly on his feet, loitering in the doorway. "I was thinking about what we talked about earlier."

"Okay," Juice set down his tools and swiveled the desk chair around. "If I made you uncomfortable asking those questions--"

"You didn't," Stiles reassured him, stepping further into the room. "It just made me think about a lot of things that I haven't let myself think about before."

"Good things, I hope."

"Do you, um, do you mind if I share them with you?"

"No, I'd love to hear it," Juice smiled encouragingly. "Please."

"You and me, we've become really good friends, I think, since you've been here," Stiles toyed nervously with the cuffs of his sweatshirt as he spoke. "I haven't had a friend like you in a long time, maybe ever, and I... I don't want to ruin that, but my feelings for you aren't, um, entirely friendly."

"Oh," Juice stood from the chair, needing the freedom to move around. "Um...."

"You don't have to say anything back, okay? J-Just let me, uh, let me get this out," Stiles took a deep, steadying breath. "I have, uh, I mean-- _Fuck._ Saying the words _'I_ _ **like**_ _you like you'_ makes me sound like a five year old. Um. I'm not going to say I'm in love with you or anything, we're not there yet, but, uh...I have feelings for you, _romantic_ feelings, I guess. Um. I think that intimacy thing you were talking about, I think we could have that together."

"Yeah. Yeah, we could," Juice couldn't say he hadn't thought about it. "Stiles, I'm glad you told me, but I...."

"But you don't feel the same way," Stiles didn't seem surprised, maybe a little disappointed, but not surprised. "That's okay. I wasn't expecting anything or trying to pressure you. I just wanted you to know how I felt."

"No. No, that's not what I'm saying at all. How I feel about you is not the problem," Juice paced the length of the small room as he tried to translate his thoughts into coherent words. "I'm into you, Stiles. I know neither of us are the most stable individuals. I mean, I'm an addict and you're, well, you're...."

"Kind of batshit," Stiles finished for him, an amused grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's okay. You can say it. It's something I've come to terms with."

"You've got a way of calming me down and drowning out the voices in my head," Things got so loud for Juice sometimes that he couldn't think straight, and there was a time when drugs were the only way he could silence them. "But there's a part of my life that is still loud and chaotic. I need to get right with that part of my life before I can start anything serious with you. Does the make sense?"

"Yes. Yeah. It does," Stiles nodded. "You calm me down too, you know? I know it may not seem like it, but when you're around, I stop feeling like I need to climb out of my skin. You make me feel comfortable with myself and things that I've done. And I like...talking to you."

"I like talking to you," Juice felt even the most blasé conversations with Stiles could be deep and meaningful. "I want to...explore things with you. You know? I think we could make each other better people if we let ourselves. Not that we're bad people. We're just..."

"In need of some work."

"Yeah. Yeah, we need a little more work," They had repaired themselves as much as they could manage and had reached a point where they could start helping each other with the damage. "I just need to get through this stuff with my mom first. Everything I need to work out is with her. I just need a little more time, before I can be with you like that. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is. I don't want to rush you. I'm here when you're ready," Stiles said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "And, you know, I got a few more things I need to get right with myself, so.... I just wanted things to be out in the open, so when we were both ready..."

"When we're both ready."

* * *

 

The house was noisier than John could ever remember it being growing up. Even in the middle of the night, when things were winding down, he could still hear voices talking in hushed tones, a TV on somewhere, a faucet dripping, and soft steps creaking the floorboards down the hall. It was a hazard of having an old house with thin walls, he supposed. It didn't irk him as it might some, instead he found it relaxing, knowing what little family he had was safe under the same roof he'd slept beneath as a child.

"The kids are tucked into bed, but they're not asleep just yet," Gemma said as she slipped into the master bedroom to join him. "Stiles is reading a book with a flashlight, Jax is on the phone with someone, and Juice is either playing with himself under the covers or a Gameboy."

"Okay then," John snorted, feeling the bed dip under her weight. "Uh, what're you doing?"

"What's it look like?" She hummed, curling up beside him. "I know it's been a long time, Johnny, but you've got to remember what cuddling is."

"I do, but, you know," John grunted, adjusting to her weight on top of him. "The last time we were in bed together, I ended up with a child."

“And he’s the best thing that ever happened to you. You’re welcome," Gemma quipped, resting her head on his chest. "You can relax, Johnny. I just want to be held, nothing more.”

“Well, that I can do,” He was happy to oblige, wrapping her in a firm embrace.

“We could, though, you know, if we wanted to,” Gemma mentioned casually. “Have a baby, I mean. My tubes are tired but they’re not tied.”

"I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not," John couldn't help but think it was her grief talking. "Is this an ‘I took something from you, now you want me to give you something back’ kind of thing? A transaction?"

"Well, it wouldn't be like it was with Stiles, where I sent him away to live with you," She skimmed her manicured nails over his chest, glancing up at him through her lashes. "We'd co-parent the next kid."

"We're too old to start over with a newborn," John had two teenagers to contend with already and she had a fully grown child. "And I'm still not entirely sure you're being serious."

"I just hate an empty house, it’s a cold thing to come home to," Gemma sighed, burrowing into his body heat. "You'll understand when Stiles and Juice go away to college."

"I'm sure Jax will knock some poor girl up sooner or later," John was shocked the kid hadn't yet with the way he got around. "Then you'll have a grandchild to love, nurture, and spoil."

"That'll be nice."

* * *

 

Jax was a notoriously deep sleeper, he chalked it up to conditioning, having spent so many nights at the clubhouse as a small child, he had to learn how to sleep through the loud parties if he wanted to get any sleep at all. Nowadays a train could role through shooting off fireworks and he'd carry on snoring like nothing was amiss. There was an exception to every rule, though, and as usual, the exception revolved around his baby brother. A soft cry or whine from the kid was all it took to yank Jax forcibly from his slumber.

The teenager's whimpering had kept Jax from dozing for more than a few minutes at a time all night, not that he blamed him. He had downplayed his injury in daylight hours, but couldn't hold back the cries of pain when his wound made contact with the firm mattress after he’d rolled over in his sleep. Around dawn, Jax had given up on sleep entirely to keep a close eye on the clock so he could have Stiles’ next dose of pain medicine ready for him as soon as the six-hour window had passed.

"I'll be right back, buddy. Okay?" Jax kissed his brother's temple as the alarm clock on the table read 8:00am. "I'm gonna go get your pill, you'll feel better after you take it."

Jax shuffled out of the room and down the hall to the living room, expecting to see his mother crashed out on the couch, where she was supposed to be. However, the sofa was still made up neatly, clearly hadn't been slept in.

"Oh, shit," He didn’t have to wonder where she which bed she ended up in during the night. “When Stiles said she’d find a new husband, I don’t think his old man is who he had in mind.”

Jax couldn't help but snicker, picturing the scandalized expression his baby brother would wear if he got wind of anything untoward happening between their parents in the middle of the night.

"Kid is going to flip his shit." Jax chortled as he made his way into the kitchen, grabbing the prescription bottle of hydros off the counter and bottled water from the fridge.

A sudden, sharp knock at the front door in the otherwise quiet house startled him out of his task. A quick peek through the peephole found an unfamiliar face on the other side, fist raised, poised to strike door once more if Jax hadn’t opened it.

"Hey," He greeted the stranger standing on the porch with as much politeness as he could manage at the early hour. "Can I help you?"

"Is this the Stilinski residence?" The woman asked, looking down at a slip of paper in her hands. "I have two addresses, but no one seemed to be home in Beacon Hills."

"You've got the right place," Jax wouldn't know if that was a good thing or not until he figured out who she was. "And you are?"

"Antonia Ortiz," She introduced herself with a firm handshake. "You're too young to be Sheriff Stilinski and few years too old to be Stiles. My son is supposed to be living with them."

"Oh, you're Jui-- I mean, Juan Carlos's mom," He'd heard a rumor she would be coming around sooner or later. "I'm Jax, Stiles' older brother."

"Oh, it's nice to meet you," She smiled warmly, but there were telltale signs of worry and stress etched over the lines on her face. "I'm early. I wasn't supposed to be here until next week, but I got a call from a Chief Unser. He said that I might want to come and check in on Juan Carlos now, that he might be in danger."

"I know Chief Unser. He's a good friend of my mom's. I don't know why he would tell you something like that," Jax knew Stiles had put the screws to Wayne, but he never thought Wayne would be stupid enough to retaliate through Juice. "Juan Carlos is fine. He's asleep, but you can come in and see for yourself."

"I’ll do that,” Mrs. Ortiz maneuvered around him and into the house. “Thank you."

“What exactly did Chief Unser say to you?” It would be easier to clean up if Jax knew how much of a mess the old man had made of things. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is. ‘Cause, I mean, Juice— _ **Juan Carlos**_ is good. He’s clean and all that.”

“My son’s drug abuse was not the topic of conversation,” Antonia glared up at him, shoulders set, jaw clenched, looking incredibly intimidating for someone who couldn’t have stood taller than 5’4. “Chief Unser said there was an incident, night before last. Sheriff Stilinski murdered someone in cold blood at the dinner table. My son may have witnessed this act of violence and he fled the scene.”

Well, _**fuck**_.


	9. someone who understands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Chapter title comes from: [Older Chests by Damien Rice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uj21oODGpEU)  
> Gif sets: [Parting Shot](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187638104881/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-parting-shot-he-did), [A Vote](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187856716511/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-a-vote-you-can-have), [Our Family](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187746424336/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-our-family-strays)

There were two Jax never wanted to get involved with, other peoples family drama and his mother's romantic relationships. Unfortunately, Mrs. Ortiz's sudden appearance prompted him to cross at least one of those lines.

"Please be dressed," He mumbled under his breath, covering his eyes with his hand as he pushed the bedroom door open. "Please, tell me you're dressed."

"We are. Jesus, Jackson," Gemma said with a long-suffering sigh. "Didn't you learn your lesson about knocking when you walked in on me and your dad when you were a kid?"

"I would have knocked, but there is a woman in the kitchen who is already suspicious of everyone in this house, I didn't think you'd want to raise those suspicions by letting her think we were having a secret meeting," Jax dropped his hand away from his eyes, finding his mother and John snuggled up in bed together, fully clothed. "Oh, thank God, you are dressed."

"Who is in my kitchen, Jax?" John asked, disentangling himself from Gemma. "Why is she suspicious?"

"Juice's mother, Antonia Ortiz," Jax had spent all of five minutes with her, which was more than enough to develop a healthy fear for reasons he wasn't quite sure of yet. "Unser called her. Told her Juice watched you kill a man in cold blood."

"Ah crap," John pushed the blankets off himself. "Does Juice know she's here?"

"Does Stiles know what Wayne did?" Gemma questioned, brushing her hair out of her face. "Is he on his way to murder him?"

"Stiles is still asleep. I woke Juice up, he's getting dressed," The kid had gone white as a sheet when Jax told him the news. "So, uh, what's the play here, guys?"

"The play?" John raised a brow, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "We're going to tell the truth."

"Which truth?" Gemma cocked her head to the side. "Some versions are more complicated than others, sweetheart."

"The version where I didn't figure out that my child, his brother, and his biological mother had orchestrated a man's murder until after the fact," John retorted, hunching his shoulders. "I did not kill Clay in cold blood. I was defending my son from a man who shot him. That is the truth. That is what we will tell Mrs. Ortiz."

"You do that, you're probably going to have to tell her why," Gemma pressed a hand to John's back. "You sure you want to tell that story to a stranger?"

"Normally, I wouldn't, but it seems Wayne has forced my hand," John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What he said to her spooked her enough to bring her out here to check on her son. She's scared. The only thing that's going to soothe her fear is the truth."

"Well, that sounds like a fun conversation," Such a shame that Jax was going to miss it. "I should get to TM. Do you want me to take Stiles with me? He can crash in the clubhouse."

"No, I want him here with me," John glanced at the picture of his son sitting on the nightstand. "I want him close."

"I'm going to help Johnny handle Mrs. Ortiz," Gemma decided, standing from the bed and stretching her long limbs. "I'll be in to work a little later."

"You sure?" Jax could see his mother wasn't as upset as she was when his father had died, but she had still been recently windowed. "You can take a few days."

"I don't need a few days."

* * *

 

Stiles hadn’t slept well, whether it be from his injury, the unfamiliar surroundings, or Jax’s snoring, he couldn’t say. The best he could manage was a light doze, something he was in the middle of when Juice’s insistent voice roused him.

"Stiles. Stiles, wake up. _**Stiles!**_ "

"Ugh…" Stiles groaned, peeling his eyes open. "W-What's wrong? Where's Jax?"

"Oh, he told me to give you these," Juice held out a water bottle and a pill. "It's only because I knew it was for you that I didn't take it myself."

"Thanks," Stiles grunted, pulling himself into a sitting position and accepting the proffered items. "I don't, uh, I don't think that's why you woke me up in a panic, though."

"No. No. I am sorry about that," Juice apologized, wringing his hands nervously. "My mom is here."

"What?" He knew she would be popping in, but he didn't think it would be so soon. "That's, um, that's... Are you okay? How is she?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her yet," Juice replied, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Jax told me she was here and now I'm in here with you. I, uh, I thought, maybe, your dad should talk to her first."

"Why?" Stiles asked, relaxing against his pillows. "She's here for you."

"I-I can't," Juice shook his head. "I'm not ready."

"Okay, come here," Stiles scooted over, making room for the other boy on the bed. "Sit with me. Let's talk about it."

"I don't know why I'm so freaked about this," Juice muttered, curling up beside Stiles. "I mean, I knew she was coming soon...."

"You just didn't expect it to be this soon," Stiles took his friends hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "You thought you had more time to prepare or runaway."

"I don't want to runaway. I like it here," Juice gripped Stiles hand firmly. "What if she came early because she decided to take me home?"

"Then we'll just have to change her mind," Stiles said easily, knocking back his pain pill with a swig of water. "Maybe she's here because she couldn't wait any longer to see you. She hasn't seen you in months, for some parents that would be hell."

"I put her through hell, Stiles," Juice grumbled, tipping his head back against the headboard. "These last few months should've been a nice break for her."

"Oh, come on," He couldn't possibly be that dense. "Thinking that might've helped you sleep better at night, but we both know it's bullshit."

"Okay. Yeah. It's bullshit."

"From what you've told me about your mom, she's a good one."

"She's the best," Juice smiled sadly. "I was the screw up."

"You've said that before," It was only one part of the picture. "Tell me something else about your mom. About your relationship with your mom."

"I was attached to her hip when I was little. I used to follow her everywhere, like a lost puppy, and she let me. There's actually pictures of her waiting tables at her diner while giving me a piggyback ride," Juice fondly recalled. "If she was near, I had to be closer. I just...I always had to be in her space."

"That's sweet."

"I was so pissed when she had my little brother, Felix. I already had to share her with my old siblings, I didn't want to share her with a new kid," Juice chuckled mirthlessly. "She didn't let me stay mad. She took me to her doctor's appointments with her so I could hear his heartbeat and see the ultrasounds. She explained to me, several times, that being a big brother was going to be awesome."

"Speaking as a younger brother, I can tell you that we are awesome, so..."

"Well, speaking an older brother, I can tell you I adapted to that role a lot easier than some of my siblings," Juice snorted. "My oldest brother Ray Jr., he hates me. Always has. To be fair, I did break his nose with a toy fire truck when I was, like, three or four. I think he might still be holding a grudge. And my sister Marianna, she shoved me down into the snow when I was a toddler, cracked my head on a rock. I was in a coma for days."

"I’m suddenly thankful Jax was too old to rough house with me when I was little," If not for their age difference, there was a good chance Stiles might not have survived his childhood, from the sounds of things. "What about your other older siblings? Um, Angelo and Marisol?"

"They were good. Marisol was the responsible one. She always got straight A's, excelled at everything she did. She got a scholarship to college. She was the caregiver, too, you know, she babysat all the neighborhood kids for extra money. She was always ready to help Mom rein us all in," Juice grinned as he spoke about his eldest sister. "Angelo, he's...he's more like Mom than any of us, I think. He's got her presence, I guess. He's the calm in the storm that is the rest of us."

"That's what your mom is to you?" Stiles asked, gently prodding the other boy to continue opening up to him. "The calm in the storm?"

"She was. It used to be so easy for her to keep me calm," Juice said wistfully. "I don't know when that changed."

"Sounds like you guys were really close once," Stiles had been close to his mother too before she fell ill. "Why so much distance? I don't mean the physical kind."

"I think I started to resent for...for letting Dad come home. He'd start drinking, knock her around, she'd toss him out, a few months later he'd come back with a chip from AA, and she'd let him in," Juice remarked scornfully. "I used to hear them fight. I would try to protect her. I'd push him away. I'd...I'd rather him hit me than her, I could never stand to see her in pain. But she...she'd pull me away, push me behind her before he could lay a hand on me."

"She was protecting you," Stiles had to believe any parent would have in that situation. "Have you ever asked her why she kept letting him back in?"

"Probably because she loved him and couldn't let him go, even at the expense of herself."

"You should ask her instead of making assumptions."

"You think there's a different reason?"

"Maybe."

"Okay," Juice nodded. "I'll ask her."

* * *

 

One of John's greatest assets in his career was his ability to comfort witnesses, victims and their friends or family, to put them at ease. He had spent a lot of time honing those skills by taking classes and seminars on the subject throughout his career. It was strength that he liked to believe carried over to his personal life.

"Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Ortiz?" John set two cups of coffee on the table, one in front of his guest, the other Gemma. "Something to eat?"

"The coffee's fine. Thank you," Antonia smiled gratefully. "I apologize for just dropping in unannounced."

"Oh, no. You're Juan Carlos's mother. You're always welcome in our home," Gemma reached across the table to pat the older woman's hand. "My son Jax mentioned that Chief Unser is the reason decided to make your visit earlier than expected."

"He called me yesterday afternoon. He said my Juan Carlos had witnessed a crime, a murder that you, Sheriff Stilinski, had committed," Antonia revealed, her voice carefully void of judgment. "Sheriff, I am not here to accuse you of anything. I learned a long time ago not to trust members of law enforcement strictly on their word-- no offense."

"None taken," John knew very well how many dirty cops there were giving the rest of them a bad name. "And please, call me John."

"If Juan Carlos really had witnessed you murder someone, I don't think he would still be here. He's made bad choices, but he's not stupid," Antonia said confidently, shifting in her seat. "I would appreciate if you would explain to me what is going on."

"Unfortunately, your son did witness me take a man's life," John wanted to avoid being blunt, but it wasn't always easy when trying to have an honest conversation. "However, that man, Clay Morrow was his name; he had just shot my son."

"Clay would have kept shooting until Stiles was dead if Johnny hadn't done what he did," Gemma intertwined her and John's fingers on the table. "Johnny was only defending our son."

"I am so sorry that Juan Carlos had to witness that, any of it," No child should ever be subjected to such acts of violence. "You're probably wondering why Clay Morrow would attempt to murder my son--"

"Is your son all right?" Antonia asked, worried eyes flicking between them. "I know he and Juan Carlos have become close. Juan Carlos has spoken about him during our phone calls."

"Yes, he will be fine. He's resting," John glanced over his shoulder to the hallway. "I think Juan Carlos is in with him right now, actually."

"I did see him tiptoe into a room down the hall after your other son, Jax, let him know I was here," Antonia commented, pursing his lip. "I'm glad your son will be all right, but yes, I would like to know how or why what happened, happened."

"Twenty-eight years ago, Clay Morrow murdered my father," One of three perpetrators, but that wasn't relevant at the moment. "He was never convicted because the interim Chief at the time was on his payroll. Recently, Stiles got him to confess on tape. Stiles played him the tape that night at dinner."

"It was a big dinner, friends and family all around the table. Stiles thought he would be safe," Gemma explained, head bowed. "He should have been safe."

"The interim chief on this Clay Morrow's payroll," Antonia fiddled anxiously with the cross hanging from her neck. "Chief Unser?"

"Yes," John confirmed with a nod. "He also fired one of the three shots that killed my father."

"I'm so sorry," Antonia pressed a hand over her heart.

"Stiles never had a chance to know his grandfather, but he knew how that loss effected me," That loss had shaped John as a person and in turn shaped his own son. "He saw a chance to finally get justice for his grandfather and closure for me and he took it."

"He really is a good kid," Gemma assured her. "But when someone harms his family or his friends, he can't let it stand."

"I understand."

"Juan Carlos was frightened and he did flee the scene, but I can't tell you if it was because of what I did or what Clay did," John wouldn't have been surprised if it was a little of both. "He didn't go far, just to the cabin where we detoxed him. He came back once he felt safe, went to visit Stiles in the hospital, then came home."

"He always does," Antonia murmured softly. "He goes off somewhere. He gets lost. He gets in trouble. He always comes home."

"You've been waiting for him," Gemma noted, a sympathetic frown on her lips. "You thought he would have gone home to you by now."

"It's the one thing I could always count on with him-- Well, that and his sweet smile," Antonia grinned into her coffee mug. "My Juan Carlos isn't my youngest, but he's always been my baby. He always needed more care and attention than his brothers and sisters, and I was more than willing to give it to him. Then he got older and he started pulling away, he has four older siblings, so I know that's normal, but..."

"He took a little far."

"His oldest brother would tease him because he was so attached to me. I think Juan Carlos started pulling away because he was embarrassed or thought he had to, not because he was ready," Antonia raked her hands through her long dark hair. "He needed more time. He needed to be a little boy longer. He wasn't ready."

"I'm probably still not ready," Juice interjected as he joined them in the kitchen. "But I still feel like I am."

"Juan Carlos," Antonia's breath caught in her throat. "Hi, baby."

"Hi, Mama," Juice smiled shyly. "Um, if you and Gemma and John are finished talking, I, um, I thought we could go for a walk or I could take you to breakfast or something."

"That's sounds perfect, baby."

* * *

 

After Jax’s father had died, the club had descended into chaos. The fact that they were in the midst of a war with the Mayans didn't help matters. It taken months for things to settle, Jax expected more the same in the wake of Clay's death, and he wasn't the only one.

"Nobody wants a repeat of 1993. There were bodies dropping from here to Santo Padre," Deputy Hale muttered, eyes scanning the garage property. "And with Unser out at Charming PD--"

"Unser's out?" That was the first Jax had heard of it. "When did that happen?"

"He put in his papers last night at the end of shift," Hale revealed, raising a brow. "The way he was spluttering around his office, cursing your brother's name, I figured you'd know all about it."

"I knew Stiles had _**encouraged**_ Wayne to retire. I never thought he'd actually go through with it," It made Jax wonder exactly what kind of pressure his brother had put on the guy. "Guess that makes you the new Chief. Congrats."

"I was told I don't have enough experience," Hale huffed, scuffing his shoes over the pavement. "If they can't find someone to replace Unser, the county is thinking of bringing in the San Joaquin Sheriff's to take over."

"You know, you should talk to John Stilinski," Charming would be a lot better off with a local in office than bringing in an entirely new department. "He's living here again, over in his dad's old place."

"You think he'll be your new Unser?" Hale scoffed. "Cleaning up after the club?"

"No. No, he'd never do that. He's too much like his old man," Jax was just a little kid when Henry Stilinski had been killed, but he could still remember the kind of person he was. "There's not going to be anything to cover up soon."

"Right. Sure."

"I'm in charge now. I'm pulling the club out of all the shit Clay and my dad got us into," Jax wasn't going to let their legacy destroy his club. "It's going to happen, Hale, it's just going to take some time. I'm trying here, okay?"

"John Stilinski was a sheriff up in Beacon Hills, right?" Hale asked. "Why would he leave that to come home?"

"He wanted to give Stiles a change," And Jax suspected he was just as tired of all the assholes in Beacon Hills as Stiles and Juice were. "I know he didn't plan to take Unser's job, he didn't want to be that guy who pushed a sick old man out of office, but I'm sure he can be convinced now that Unser's left on his own."

"What did he plan to do if he wasn't going to join the department?"

"I have no idea," Jax assumed John had something lined up or he never would have given up his previous job and source of income. "He's only ever been a soldier and a cop, I'm not sure what else he would do."

"If you're advising me to bring Stilinski into Charming PD, I guess that means you don't plan to retaliate against him for Clay's death."

"I already put out the word to every other charter, John and Stiles are not to be touched," It would be a cold day in hell before Jax allowed anyone wearing a reaper to harm what was left of the Stilinski family. "What about your investigation?"

"Stiles and Clay's tumultuous relationship is well documented. No one, including me, is surprised that one of them finally snapped," Hale remarked, placing his hands on his hips. "By all accounts, he and Stiles got into an argument at dinner. Clay shot Stiles. Sheriff Stilinski shot Clay. Evidence and witness statements support that."

"Good," The last thing his little brother needed was to be involved in another court case. "I'm happy to hear that."

"Look, you know I like Stiles. He's an...interesting kid," Hale commented, "But he also has a habit of getting into trouble. You going to be able to keep him on a leash?"

"I wouldn't worry too much about him raising hell," Jax's little brother had always specialized more in mischief than hell raising anyway. "He's mellowed a lot these last few months, in his own way."

" _'In his own way_.'"

"Yeah."

* * *

 

Stiles was discovering there were some difficulties that came to living with a gunshot wound when he no longer had access to the IV drip of pain medication St. Thomas kept him hooked up to while he was patient. It hurt worse than he expected it to, made it tough to get around. The simple act of climbing out of bed was a chore; he had to limp to the kitchen because walking normally seemed too much to ask of his body, and lowering himself into a chair at the table turned into collapsing from painful and exhaustion.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy," Gemma glanced up from the pad of paper she was scribbling notes onto. "I think your dad might prefer it if you were on bed rest."

"He should know better than that," Stiles had never taken well to the concept of bed rest. "I would have to be heavily sedated to stay in bed all day."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"What are you working on?" Stiles asked, sliding the coffee mug in front of Gemma across the table for himself. "Shopping list?"

"Things I have to do to settle Clay's affairs," Gemma murmured, continuing to add things to a list. "Second time around, at least I already know what to do."

"Yeah," He wondered if she was just as blasé about JT's death as she was being with Clay's. "Where's my dad?"

"He had a meeting at Charming PD."

"About the case?"

"He didn't say."

"Hmm," Well, color Stiles curious; he would have to ask his dad about the specifics of his meeting later. "Juice still out with his mom?"

"Mm-hmm," Gemma nodded, tapping her pen against the notepad. "She seems nice. Strong."

"Strong?" Stiles would call that a compliment coming from Gemma. "Oh, my god. You like her. You hate other women, but you like her. You like Juice's mom."

"I do not hate other women," Gemma claimed, dropping her pen on the table. "I only talked to her for a few minutes, but yes, I like her."

"Must have been a hell of a few minutes," Stiles commented, taking a sip of coffee. "She say why she showed up early?"

"Unser called her, told her Juice witnessed your father murder someone," She explained, sweeping her bangs away from her eyes. "Naturally, she was concerned. She dropped everything to check on her baby."

"Well, that explains why you like her," Stiles concluded, his mind catching up with the other words that had come out of her mouth. "Wayne called Juice's mother to make her think Juice was in danger so she would, what, take him away?"

"Did you think you could threaten him and he would just let it go?"

"I did not threaten him, I gave him a choice," There was a big difference. "He could either retire or go to prison."

"Yeah, the prison part would be the threat," Gemma pointed out. "He did what you told him to do. He put in his papers."

"Then he tattled on us to Juice's mom."

"It was a ‘fuck you’ parting shot."

"It was childish. It was schoolyard," Stiles couldn't fathom how a grown man could stoop to such levels. "It was insulting."

"Our relationship with Juice's mom will be easier to mend than your ego," Gemma groused, shaking her head. "And if you're wondering, she didn't believe Unser. So our relationship with her is just fine."

"Well, that's good," Thank God for small favors. "But Wayne still has to answer for this."

"I would ask why, but it's you, so..."

"Gee, I wonder where I get my incessant need for revenge. Hmm, let's think about that," Stiles pressed his index finger to his lips. "Oh, I know, it's you."

"You said that with zero bitterness or disgust in your tone," Gemma smiled approvingly. "That's growth."

"Don't let it go to your head," The last thing Stiles needed was for her to start believing he might like that they shared certain genetic traits. "Focus, Mama Gemma. Wayne."

"I'm not going to help you kill him because he tried to start shit with you through Juice's mom."

"What not?"

"Because he failed."

"Did he, though?" Stiles wasn't so sure. "Did Mrs. Ortiz say she wasn't taking Juice away?"

"Well, no, but--"

"So we don't actually know how much damage Wayne did by freaking her out," The fallout was what Stiles was worried about. "And, you know, killing Wayne was never part of any of my plans. Letting him die in prison was, but that wouldn't be my fault, it'd be his punishment for his sins."

"What is the plan?" Gemma asked, quirking a brow. "What would you like to do with him?"

"I don't know," He hadn't been prepared for Wayne to retaliate or give him a _'fuck you parting shot’_ , as Gemma so eloquently put it. "I, uh, I'm not running at full capacity right now."

"Yeah, no shit."

"I'm gonna go talk to Jax about it," Maybe he would have an epiphany about it on his way to the garage. "Did Juice take the Jeep?"

"They walked," Gemma replied, furrowing her brows. "You can't go anywhere. You broke into a cold sweat just walking out here from your bedroom."

"I'm fine. I'll be fine," He would power through it. "Oh, and don't think I don't know about you sharing a bed with my father last night."

"I'd ask how, but it's you, so..."

"The walls are thin," Old house and all. "We will all be having a long talk about it later."

"Your father and I are both adults, we don't have to discuss our sex life with our teenage son," Gemma smirked, all smug and pleased with herself. "Although, you might be interested to know we discussed having another baby together."

"Oh, sweet mother of _**hell no**_."

* * *

 

Juice was too nervous to eat or to sit still in a restaurant to share a meal with his mom. A walk through town was simpler, kept them on the move, took the pressure off. They could just be a son and his mother taking a morning stroll together.

"Sweet little town," His mother observed, taking in the sights and sounds of main street. "At first, I wasn't sure you could ever be happy in a small town, but..."

"It's more my speed, I think," Juice had never been comfortable in the big city. "I like it here.”

"And Beacon Hills?" His mother inquired, raising a brow. "You told me you liked it there too."

"I liked staying with Stiles and John there. I liked the surroundings, the forest," He usually wasn’t a nature guy, but he couldn't deny the preserves beauty. "It was the people in town that were aggravating. We didn't fit there."

"We?"

"Me and Stiles and John," Juice clarified. "John's from here originally, grew up here. Stiles was born here."

"Why did they leave?"

"John's father died, he couldn't bring himself to stay," The full story wasn't Juice's to tell, even to his mother. "Stiles grew up primarily in Beacon Hills, but spent weekends and summers here."

"Sheriff Stilinski decided to uproot his and his son's entire life all of the sudden," His mother noted suspiciously. "Was it because of the school expulsion? When he spoke to me about that, he said you boys were bullied."

"It was Stiles that was bullied, I think I was just crossfire," He might have been a little too 'urban' for some of the student body. "They were awful to him, Mom. The principal and school board wouldn't do anything. John wanted to home school him-- me too, when I moved in, because he thought it was too dangerous there, but Stiles wanted to tough it out."

"Until the expulsion?"

"That was bullshi-- crap. That was crap. We didn't do anything," He was still bitter about it. "We were unfairly targeted by the school administration."

"Calm down, baby," She chuckled, linking their arms together as they walked. "Sheriff Stilinski explained after it happened."

"Everyone thinks Charming will be a better fit for all of us," At least, Juice hoped it would be better for them. "Are you going to make me go home?"

"I can't leave you here if you're not safe.”

"I am safe here," Even with all that had happened, he had never felt unsafe. "You're not going to think that if I tell you what's been going on, but that's the truth." And you know, I wasn't safe in Queens either."

"That was my fault."

"No, it wasn’t. I'm not talking about dad," His father had been an angry man, but he had only ever been a danger to one person and that wasn't Juice. "It was the partying, the drugs, the stuff I did to get money for the partying and the drugs. I was a danger to myself, and that was a mess of my own making. That started long before I killed Dad."

"You say that so easily now," She clenched her eyes shut. "Like you've accepted it."

"I have, in a way. I don't regret what I did, Mom," It was harder to come to terms with that than the act itself. "I felt bad about that for awhile, because I loved him, I should have felt worse about what I did. I thought...I thought there was really something wrong with me because I didn't feel more. I grieved him, I did, but I knew-- _**I know**_ that I did what I had to do, it might not have been the right thing, but in that moment I had to do it."

"I've spent so much time thinking about that night, wondering what I could have done differently..."

"There's something I've always wanted to ask you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it," There was no way to phrase it that didn't sound insensitive. "Whenever Dad relapsed, starting drinking again, raised a hand to you, you always threw him out of the house."

"I wasn't going to risk him hurting one of you kids," His mother tightened her grip on his arm. "He could do what he wanted to me, but I was never going to let him touch one of you."

"Is that why you never...you never fought back?" It was the one question he was smart enough to know you never asked a survivor of domestic abuse, but he needed to know. "You're pretty much the strongest person I know. I watched you go toe-to-toe with some other kid’s asshole dad at one of my soccer games, but when it came to dad, you just..."

"The first time your father got violent with me, we had just spent a week in and out of the hospital with Ray Jr., Marisol, and Angelo. They all had caught pneumonia from one of your cousins. We nearly lost Angelo, he was just a little baby..." She shuddered at the memory. "By the time I got your brothers and sisters settled into bed, your father had started drinking. I got on his case about it; he lost him temper and backhanded me. I slugged him. We got into it. Your sister must have heard us; she started calling out for me. I was so scared that she'd come downstairs, see what was going on...I just stopped fighting, made as little noise as I could."

"You never wanted us to see."

"I was afraid of what he would do if one of you came in."

"Why didn't you just leave him? For good, I mean," He had never actually seen her kick his dad out of the house, she was careful to do that when he and his siblings were at school, but they were always home when he'd come slinking back carrying that sterile hospital smell. "Why didn’t you get a divorce?"

"He would have gotten joint custody of you kids. He had never been violent with you guys before, but if you were alone together, if he didn't have me to take his frustration out on, that could've changed," She stiffened, nails digging into the palms of her hands. "At home, I could protect you. I would always be there to make sure you were safe."

"I'm sorry you had to do that for us," There was nothing he or his brothers and sisters could ever do to repay that kind of debt to her. "I know you loved Dad, despite how he was, I saw that love between you when things were good, when he was sober. Do y-you hate me for taking that from you? For taking _**him**_ from you?"

"No. No, baby. I hated him and myself for putting you in the position to have to do that, but I have never hated you," She reassured him, voice full of conviction. "I was heartbroken for you. I was scared for you. I still am."

"I'm okay, Mom," He was nowhere near as broken as he had been when he left Queens. "What I did to Dad, I struggled with that. It-it wasn't easy to get right with it, but talking about it to someone who understood, that helped."

"You've been speaking to someone about this?" She faltered, stopping them both in their tracks. "Baby, if anyone finds out--"

"I talked about it with Stiles, he's not going to tell anybody," Juice never would have shared that secret if he didn't believe it would stay between them. "I trust him. He understands me. Understands things I've done. He's done things to, to protect his family."

"He's special to you," She murmured, a small smile on his face. "You like him."

"Are you going to make me go home?" How he felt for Stiles wouldn't mean much if he was taken away. "Are you going to make me leave?"

"I need to spend some more time here, get to know Sheriff Stilinski better before I make that decision," She determined as they started down the street again. "I can see you're happy here, I don't want to take you away from that, but I need to know what's going on first."

"Okay."

* * *

 

John had spent a lot of time at Charming PD as a kid, doing his homework in his dad's office, sleeping on the couch in the break room, trying to sneak in to watch interrogations. The last time John had been there was to clean out his father's office, he promised himself then that he wouldn't step foot inside that station again until justice had finally been served.

"Thanks for coming," Deputy Hale shook his hand and offered him a seat. "I know it must be hard for you to be...here."

"In the office that belonged to my father before Unser helped murder him and took it over?" Why would be that be difficult? "What do you need from me, David?"

"It's Deputy Chief Hale while I'm in uniform, Sheriff."

"I used to babysit you, so I'll stick with David," And John wasn't quite sure he had earned the right to wear the title of ‘deputy’ given how corrupt Charming PD had become under Unser's rule. "Why am I here, David?"

"Unser put in his retirement papers," David revealed, drumming his fingers on the desk. "We need a new chief of police. I've been told I don't have enough experience."

"It's not about experience, it's about trust. Wayne trained you. Everyone knows Wayne is dirty," No one was going to trust a department that had been trained and led by someone on the take. "They want to bring in someone from the outside to clean things up."

"They're talking about bringing in the San Joaquin Sheriffs," Hale scowled. "I think someone who knows Charming would be a better fit."

"I’m not so sure about that."

"Jax mentioned you were moving back to town, but he wasn't sure of your plans."

"I don't want the job," Once upon a time, it had been his dream to be the second Stilinski to hold the position at Charming PD, but things had changed after his father had passed. "I already have a job lined up at the police academy."

"I'm sure they would understand if--"

"I didn't accept the position at the academy because I didn't want to work for Wayne or in Charming PD. I did it so I could spend more time at home with my kids," As a sheriff, he spent more time at the station than he ever did at home. At the academy, he could be off work at a decent hour every night. "They're in their senior year. Soon they'll be graduating and going off to college."

"Charming needs someone with the experience to deal with the things Unser wouldn't."

"Those _**things**_ would be my son's half-brother and his friends," John refused to put himself in the position to put the other half of his son's family away. "I can't be the person you're looking for, David."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Let the San Joaquin Sheriffs come in,” The only thing that could fix Charming was someone from the outside. “They have no history here, no connections. It’ll be a fresh start for this town.”

“No one will trust a bunch of strangers coming in,” Hale retorted, face twisted in annoyance. “You know this town, John.”

“They won’t just come in and replace everyone at Charming PD,” That was not the way things worked. “A good number of you will be most likely be offered a position similar to one you have now. They won’t just fire you.”

“They’ll fire some of us.”

“They will evaluate each of you, study your service records, and hire you on a probationary period until they determine what kind of cops you are,” Charming was infamous in Northern California for the way its law enforcement bent to the will of the Sons of Anarchy, something the San Joaquin Sheriffs wouldn’t just ignore. “You want to stay on as a deputy in Charming, you’re going to have to prove yourself.”

* * *

 

Jax had always liked the chapel in the clubhouse. It was his favorite place to hide when he was a little kid, playing hide & seek with Opie and Thomas. All the years that had passed and not much had changed, he still liked locking himself away in there, except nowadays he sat at the big oak table instead of crouching beneath it.

"Jax," Stiles' pitiful whine broke into his train a thought. "I need help."

"Aren't you supposed to be at home resting?" Jax asked, watching his baby brother hobble into the clubs sacred place. "Tell me you didn't drive yourself here."

"Relax, Gemma drove," Stiles muttered, dropping into the chair at Jax's right. "What are you doing?"

"Looking over the club rules," Jax sighed, closing the journal. "Thinking of amending a few outdated ones."

"I'd start with the racist ones," Stiles suggested, reaching for the book only to have his hand slapped away. "Ow. Not my fault your dad was a racist."

"What was so important that you came all the way down here instead of calling?"

"Unser needs to be dealt with," Stiles said through a yawn. "I need you to do it."

"You need me to kill Unser?" Jax would do a lot of morally questionable things for his brother, but if he was taking out a cop he would need a good motive. "Because he called Juice's mom?"

"Why does everyone assume I want him dead? No," Stiles shook his head. "Just deal with him, somehow. I don't...I don't care how."

"Look, kiddo, the club has business with Wayne, with his trucking company," They may or may not use Unser Trucking as a cover when transporting sensitive cargo, in return, they provided security for Unser's other trucks. "If I do something that affects the club, I need to take it to the club first."

"That's not what you said about Clay."

"Different situation," Clay was easily replaceable; they didn't exactly have another trucking company on hand. "If you want me to handle Unser for you, I have to bring it to the table, put it to a vote."

"I vote 'yay'," Stiles raised his hand. "Majority vote rules, right?"

"You don't get a vote."

"After all the things I have done for this club, I should get a vote."

"You can have your vote just as soon as you get your top rockers," Jax would happily patch his brother in as SAMCRO one day. "I'm sure Piney would sponsor you."

"No. No, no, no," Stiles blanched, offended by the suggestion. "I love you. I love the guys in the club-- some, _**some**_ of the guys in club, but I will never ever be a member of the club."

"Then no vote for you," Jax's hands were tied. "You want a vote, you have to ride and wear the reaper."

"That's stupid."

"Those are the rules, bud."

"You're a self professed anarchist," Stiles gestured to the 'Sons of Anarchy' mural on the wall. "What the hell do you care about rules?"

"Stiles."

"I'm your brother," Stiles pouted, kicking the table leg. "Can't you make an exception for me?"

"You have any idea how many exceptions we make for you as it is?"

"I don't know," Stiles shrugged. "One...two...twelve?"

"Close," It was more like forty or fifty, but who was counting? "Look, no one here gives a shit about Wayne. The vote will pass without you."

"What if it doesn’t?"

"Then I will go around the club and deal with Wayne myself," He would just prefer not to do that during his first week as SACMROs president. "Let me take it to the table first."

"If you must."

"I must."

“Fine.”

* * *

 

John had been hoping to have a one-on-one conversation with Mrs. Ortiz while she was in town, without the children or Gemma to interfere. He was lucky enough to carve out time to speak with her not long after his meeting with Deputy Hale.

"I think Juan Carlos was feeling little overwhelmed, he decided to go into work for a few hours," Antonia said as they sat down together at the patio table in the backyard. "He gave me a tour of the garage. Introduced me to a few of the mechanics."

"I hope they were on their best behavior," John knew how crude the guys at the TM could be. "And kept their hands to themselves."

"They were very nice," Antonia assured him. "We ran into your wife there. She's the owner?"

"My wife?"

"Gemma."

"Oh, no, she's not my wife," Considering the happy home act they had put on that morning, John could see how someone might jump to that conclusion. "She's Stiles biological mother, but we were never married."

"I'm sorry, I saw the ring," She gestured to the wedding ring on his finger. "I just assumed."

"My wife passed when Stiles was eight," He never had the heart to remove the ring Claudia have given him on their wedding day. "Gemma is staying with us while her house is a crime scene. That, um, the shooting was at her home."

"I see.”

"Mrs. Ortiz, I know things haven't been as stable here for Juan Carlos as I promised you they would be," It was his own fault, he never should have made a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. "I'm sorry for that. Charming, it's a chance for us all to start over."

"I hope it works out," Antonia smiled encouragingly. "For you and for Stiles."

"We all really love Juan Carlos here. He's a great kid," John wasn't sure yet if his foster son would be allowed to remain in his care, but he wanted the boy's mother to know how much they cared about him and enjoyed having him around. "He’s incredibly smart. He's actually in the middle of building a computer from spare parts."

"Oh, um, Juan Carlos and computers," Antonia paused, expression growing serious. "He has a history hacking and other computer related crimes."

"I'm aware," John had seen his arrest record. "He's promised to only use his powers for good."

"You trust him?"

"I do," That trust hadn't been built overnight, but developed gradually as they got to know one another. "He hasn't given me a reason not to."

"He looks better," Antonia mentioned. "Happy. _**Healthy.**_ I haven't seen him like since he started using."

"He's attending NA meetings regularly," On the afternoons when Stiles had an appointment with his psychiatrist, Juice made a point to attend a narcotics anonymous meeting. "I think it's been helpful to him."

"We put him in NA, rehab, church groups," Antonia sighed, rubbing her temples. "Nothing helped for long."

"When he landed in Charming he was at rock bottom," As much as it sounded like a cliché, it was also a much-needed stepping stone in the recovery process. "He had to make the choice to get better or..."

"Die," Antonia visibly wilted at the thought. "His sister, Marisol, sent him away. I didn't know until I was preparing to come out here. She felt guilty and confessed. She realized that he was never going to get better in Queens."

"That must have been very difficult for her," John had a brother once, one who was taken from him, he couldn't imagine how much strength it must have taken to send one away for their own good. "It looks like she made the right decision though."

"It does," Antonia agreed with a small nod. "I'm terrified that if I take him home he'll fall back on old habits."

"But you also can't bear to leave him," John understood that better than he would have liked. "Stiles was away for a few weeks last Spring. I could only see him twice a week. It doesn't seem like much, but I know how that felt to me, so I can understand how hard these last few months must have been for you."

"Once I knew where he was, could talk to him on the phone, it was a little easier and a little harder," Antonia admitted, picking at a loose thread on her blouse. "I knew he would leave eventually. My other kids, the older ones, they've all stayed close, most still live at home, but Juan Carlos...he was always going to be the one that left. The first time my father held him, he looked up at me and said 'inquieto'."

"’Restless’," John translated. "My grandmother would always say Stiles was a wanderer. His mother, uh, my wife, Claudia, used to call him 'mischief' as a nickname."

"A mischievous wanderer," Antonia grinned. "That's a fun combination."

"Isn't it?" John chuckled.

"Our family priest had a theory that Juan Carlos wasn't so much restless as he was without a purpose. He thought when Juan Carlos found what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to be, that he would find his calm as well," She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. "Maybe it's the same for your Stiles. Maybe they're both just searching for something."

"Maybe."

* * *

 

Jax wasn't against the idea of his mother and John Stilinski becoming a couple per se. John was a much better option than his mother's usual type, he was a good man, someone who would treat her with the kind of respect she deserved. It was just that John hadn't been in a serious relationship since Claudia had passed, and Jax couldn't be sure of his mother's intentions without asking her.

"Hey Mom," Jax shut the door of the office to give them some privacy. "What the hell are you doing with John?"

"Excuse me?" She scrutinized him through the lenses of her glasses. "What's it to you what John and I are doing?"

"You’re my mother," That entitled him to some concern or suspicion. "He's Stiles father."

"Stiles is my son too."

"Yeah, Stiles might like to forget that, but I haven't," Jax joked, sitting on the edge of the desk. "You know how protective he is of his dad. If he finds out--"

"He's already penciled me and John in for a talk about our bed sharing," Gemma rolled her eyes. "What are you worried about, Jackson? You think I'm going to hurt Johnny?"

"I think your husband just died and you're looking for comfort," He was scared she might be finding that comfort in the wrong place. "John's familiar to you, he's warm, uh, someone you've been with before--"

"You think I'm using Johnny," She deduced, leaning back in her desk chair. "That what you’re trying to say?"

"I'm not saying that," But it was highly likely, yeah. "I just want you to be careful."

"Johnny wouldn't hurt me."

"No, but whatever it is that happens between you could hurt Stiles," Jax wouldn't let that happen if he could stop it. "He loves you, whether he'd ever cop to it or not. You can’t get him caught up in your grieving process."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The longer you put on this Stepford family act with John, the easier it's going to be for Stiles to believe it," His little brother would resist the idea until it started to grow on him, until he remembered what it was like to be part of a complete family unit. "If he starts to believe it, gets used to the idea of being a family with you, of you making his dad happy, it will destroy him when you finally come through whatever haze you're in and realize that John is not the kind of person you want to be with. Stiles will never trust you again."

"Stiles doesn't trust me now," Gemma pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why are you so sure what I'm doing with Johnny isn't real?"

"I'm not," That uncertainty is what scared him the most. "I just want you to remember that Johnny isn't like Clay, he's not alone. He has a child."

"I’m aware of that, baby. I gave birth to that child."

"This shit with you and John will blowback on Stiles no matter how it turns out," Jax just hoped John would keep that in mind if he continued to go along with whatever Gemma was doing. "You have put that kid through enough, Mom. Don't put him through anymore by messing with his dad."

"You're looking out for your baby brother, so I'm going to let most of this attitude go," Gemma said tersely. "What's going on between me and Johnny is between me and Johnny. The last I checked, we were both consenting adults--"

"If it's just sex--"

"We're not having sex, not that it's any of your business," Gemma snapped. "Johnny wouldn’t sleep with me after I just lost my husband."

"If it's not sex, what the hell are you doing?"

"We are enjoying each other's company."

"It that going to lead to sex?" Jax didn't want to know, but he had to ask to get a clear idea of where things were headed. "I mean, after you're through mourning Clay."

"If I'm lucky it will."

"Ew."

"Johnny is a very giving lover."

_**"Ew."** _

“Now, since you’re so interested in talking about other people’s love lives,” Gemma sat forward in her chair. “Let’s talk about you and Wendy.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

* * *

 

Leaving the house had been a bad idea, Stiles had learned that pretty quickly. His body wasn't quite ready for him to be out of bed, let alone out of the house. As soon as he had gotten home that afternoon, he had promptly passed out in his bed. It was nearly dark when he regained consciousness and managed to stumble out of bed once more in search for food or water or pain meds, coming across Juice's mother sitting alone in the living room instead.

"Mrs. Ortiz, hi," Stiles greeted the woman timidly. "Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course," Antonia smiled, offering him the seat beside her on the couch. "It's Stiles, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles confirmed, realizing they hadn't yet been introduced. "I'm sorry I haven't come out to meet you sooner. I haven't been feeling my best."

"You don't have to apologize, your father explained the situation," She glanced briefly at the side he was favoring. "Are you all right?"

"Oh yeah. It's not as bad as it feels," He joked weakly. "I wanted to apologize about Chief Unser. He made that call because of me. He wanted to get back at me for forcing him to retire, the easiest way to do that was to go after someone I cared about. So I'm sorry. I'm sorry he worried you like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of someone else, Stiles," Antonia absolved him of his guilt. "I am curious to know how a teenage boy can force a member of law enforcement into retirement."

"My dad told you about the recording I made of Clay Morrow?"

"He did."

"That recording implicated Chief Unser as well," Along with Jax's father, but that wasn't relevant to the conversation. "He was a deputy under my grandfather, but he wanted to be chief. He was good friends with Clay. They killed him together."

"Yes, your father mentioned that. I'm sorry."

"I know Unser's wife and his children, I didn't want them to suffer for his mistakes," Della and her kids had never done anything to deserve his or anyone else’s malice. "And Unser has cancer; it will kill him long prison will. Forcing him into retirement would at least get him out of office, and it felt...less cruel."

“He didn't feel the same way," Antonia guessed. "Chief Unser must think you care about my Juan Carlos an awful lot to try to use him to get to you."

"I do. I care about him," Stiles suspected he could even love him one day, someday soon maybe. "He's my best friend."

"Mm-hmm," Antonia hummed, a knowing look on her face. "It comforts me to know that he has people here that care for him."

"I could only imagine how you feel having your son thousands of miles away, living with a bunch of strangers," He wasn't a parent, but he was a child with a very overprotective father. "It would drive my dad out of his mind, it's probably doing the same for you, which is why, as much I would love him to stay, I feel terrible asking you to let him."

"Stiles..."

"I want to be honest with you, to give you the truth about me, so you can make the decision you feel is best for Juan Carlos. You already know what happened with Clay. By now, you know my brother is involved with a motorcycle club. I'm sure the one thing that's been kept under wraps is me," He knew giving her that truth could backfire spectacularly, but so could keeping it from her. "I, um, I killed a man-- a boy, a boy a little older than me. He, um, he stalked me, threatened my dad, and a confrontation between us turned violent. Afterward, I spent a few months in a psychiatric hospital."

"Thank you for sharing that with me, but it wasn't necessary," She rubbed comforting circles on his back. "Juan Carlos trusts you, that tells me all I need to know about you."

"No one will ever love or care for Juan Carlos the way you do. I mean, you're his mom," That was a bond no one could touch. "But we can take care of him here too. I-I can take care of him, if you'll let me."

"You're a very sweet boy," Antonia pressed her lips to his cheek. "Juan Carlos is lucky to have you in his life."

"Yeah, I am," Juice agreed, stepping in from the kitchen. "I'd hate to lose him."

"Not possible. I'm like a bad penny, can’t get rid of me," Stiles quipped, rising from the couch. "I'll let you talk--"

"No, it's okay," Antonia took his hand, urged him to sit back down. "I've made a decision, you should both hear it."

"I can stay?" Juice said excitedly, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa. "You're going to let me stay?"

"I may have misspoken. I haven't made a definitive decision, but yes, I am _**considering**_ letting you stay," Antonia clarified. "I do have some stipulations. If you stay, I'd like you finish school."

"I really didn't want to," Juice said with a long-suffering sigh. "But if that’s what you want, I guess I could."

"You're so close to finishing, it'd be a shame to quit now," Antonia reasoned pragmatically. "I'm going to bring you brothers and sisters with me for your graduation."

"Please don't," Juice cringed. "You can bring one. Bring Felix. He doesn't hate me...I don't think."

"Your brothers and sisters don't hate you," Antonia swatted the back of his head. "They worry about you."

"They can worry about me and hate me," Juice retorted. "Those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

"The other thing I want you to do is apply to college," Antonia said, holding up a hand to preemptively shut down his protests. "I'm not saying you have to go, just give yourself the option."

"If it will make you happy, fine."

"What about you, Stiles?" Antonia asked, turning to him. "You have plans for college?"

"If I can get in, yeah," He still wasn't sure how his troubles would play with the admissions board. "My sister-in-law thinks I should defer a year, travel, take a road trip or something."

"That's a great idea," Antonia smiled, wheels turning in her mind. "If you're planning a summer trip, maybe you both could come up to New York. You could meet our family. Juan Carlos can show you around. Have you ever been to New York?"

"As a kid, yeah," He had a very vague recollection. "My mom, Claudia, she grew up on Staten Island, her parents still live there."

"If I'm taking a summer trip home," Juice grinned, wide and bright. "Does that mean I can stay?"

"There are still details we need to work out, but yes--"

"Thank you!" Juice shouted, wrapping his arms around his mother. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"You’re welcome, baby," Antonia mumbled against her son's hair as she returned his embrace. "I'm just going to miss you so much."

"I'll make sure he calls you regularly," Stiles promised her. "And I'll take care of him."

"I know you will."

* * *

 

Everyone grieved in his or her own way, John knew that. When Claudia had passed, all he wanted to do was curl up with a bottle of hard liquor and curse God for bringing her in to his life just to take her away a few short years later. In the wake of her second husband's death, Gemma, it seemed, just needed to be with someone else, and John had gone along with it, for the most part.

He hadn't complained when she joined him in his bed the previous night. They had cooked breakfast and dinner side-by-side for their children and houseguest like they were a couple tending to their family. It almost felt normal to find her once again in his bedroom after a long day, standing beside the dresser in a long flowing nightgown.

"Almost like she belongs here...." He whispered to himself, the heavy weight of guilt settling in his heart as he grasped the wedding ring on his finger. "I'm sorry, honey."

"You say something, Johnny?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "You look like someone kicked your puppy."

"What are we doing here, Gem?" Besides disrespecting his wife's memory. "I mean..."

"We're taking care of our family. Together," Gemma declared as she rubbed lotion onto her hands. "Just like we always should have."

"I don't think you mean co-parenting the boys," They didn't need to share a room or bed to do that. "If we had...been together after Stiles was born, I never would have been with Claudia."

"I know how much you loved her, baby," She glanced down at his fingers covering the ring his wife had given him. "She was a good woman, a good mother to Stiles."

"You hated her," John had sensed the animosity between the women the minute he had introduced them. "You wouldn't even let her adopt Stiles."

"She got to raise Stiles when I couldn't," She murmured, sauntering across the room to him. "She did a better job in those years than I ever could have."

"She was amazing with him," Claudia had taken Stiles on as her own without hesitation, had loved him as much as John had until the day she died. "You would have done great with him too, had you tried. Still could."

"He would have to forgive me for abandoning him or telling him I was his real mother at Claudia's wake. I'm not sure if he would that," Gemma acknowledged. "Your mother abandon you. Do you forgive her?"

"She did more than abandon me, and the answer is no," His mother had never given him a reason to forgive her. "If I could understand why she was the way she was, understand why she left, or if she ever came back around to apologize, then maybe I could, but as of now, no, I don't."

"Not really the response I was looking for."

"Do you forgive _**your**_ mother?"

"No, bitch is batshit."

"There's still time for you to make things right with Stiles," He didn't believe she could ever replace Claudia in Stiles heart, but his son could make room for her. "If that's why you're doing this, if you're looking for an in with Stiles--"

"Doing what? What do you think I'm doing?"

"Spending time with me," That wasn't really something they did outside a short chat when he dropped Stiles off. "If you're getting closer to me to get closer to Stiles, it won’t work.”

"I'm spending time with you for you," Gemma lightly stroked his cheek. "Jax gave me the third degree about this earlier, you know."

"He's just worried about you."

"He was worried about me hurting you and Stiles as I worked through my 'grieving process'."

"If you need me to help you through your loss, I am here," He wrapped his fingers around her wrist to lower her hand away from his face. "You don't need to...show me affection for that. I don't need anything in return."

"I'm showing you affection because I like to," She claimed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Not because I feel an obligation to."

"I just don't want you to anything you're going to regret," John wouldn't let either of them cross any lines until they were ready, if they ever were. "I know I said this last night, but you did just lose your husband and I know that's affecting you even if you're not ready to deal with it."

"My relationship with Clay wasn't exactly conventional, you know. It started while I was still with JT, after I found out JT had someone on the side," Her expression harded. "JT, he spent a lot of time in Belfast after the kids were born. Said he was doing club business, really he was doing some teenager. I didn't know until I found the letters he was writing her from home. Love letters."

"I'm sorry."

"He was over there, in Belfast with her when my Thomas took a turn for the worse. I begged him to come home, we all did, but he kept saying he was needed there," Gemma sneered, recalling her first husband's cruelty. "Thomas cried out for him. Jax, he would--he would climb into Thomas's hospital bed and hold him the way JT should have. Our son was dying and he had more important things to do. My little boy had been gone a week before JT finally came home."

"I'm so sorry, Gemma," John curled his arms around her, holding her close. "You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone. I’m sorry."

"Clay and I started up together to punish JT. He had abandoned our family and SAMCRO for some Irish pussy," Gemma spit out bitterly. "I'm not saying Clay and I didn't love each other, because we did in our own way, but our entire relationship, our marriage, it was built on and around our hate for JT. JT was always going to sit between us."

"No relationship can survive on hate alone."

"You'd be surprised."

"No relationship _ **should**_ survive on hate alone," There had to be more to it than that to make it work. "You need love, affection, compassion."

"I guess I'll just have to find those things in husband #3."

* * *

 

A consequence of Juice's mother taking her trip to Charming early was that the hotel reservation she had made in advance were useless. Rather than force her to find a hotel with a vacancy on short notice, Juice had offered up his own bed to her. After some shuffling, Jax had ended up on the couch, and Juice had found temporary quarters in Stiles rooms. The other boy had accepted him without argument, making room on the bed for him so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor.

"So, how are you?" Stiles asked, nudging his shoulder. "You have a good talk with your mom today?"

"Yeah, I did," They had talked about all sorts of things throughout the day, some topics were more difficult than others. "She told me she stayed with my dad to protect me and my brothers and sisters. She was afraid he would get joint custody and then start beating on us without her around."

"I think that's a fear a lot of people in that situation have when there are children in the picture," Stiles reasoned, pulling the blanket tighter around him. "I think a lot of people see victims of abuse as weak when they're actually very strong individuals."

"She's the strongest person I know," He had always admired his mother's strength above all others. "We, um, talked a bit after dinner too."

"I noticed you sneak off, left me alone to watch Gemma canoodle with my father," Stiles grimaced. "You seemed to be in a good mood when you guys got back from that talk."

"I was," Juice nodded, adjusting the pillow under his head. "We talked about you."

"Me?" Stiles tensed. "Why? What did I do? Did I overstep when I talked to her?"

"No. No," Juice laughed, lacing their fingers together on Stiles lap. "I told her what you and I talked about yesterday."

"O-Oh," Stiles cleared his throat. "And what, uh, what did she say?"

"Oh, she thinks we would make an adorable couple," He hadn't been surprised by her approval, she'd always been the open minded sort. "When we're ready."

"That's nice."

"Have you talked to your dad about it?" Juice didn't feel like a guest in their home any longer, but he didn't want to make waves by dating his foster father's son. "Would he be okay with it?"

"We haven't talked about you and me specifically, no. He does know I like guys, though," Stiles shifted on to his side so they could face each other. "If you're worried about him, you shouldn't be. He really likes you. I think he'd be happy for us if and when we started seeing each other romantically or whatever."

"Is that a good thing?" He had known people in the past who would hook up with someone just to piss off mommy and daddy.

"Yeah," Stiles said with a small smile. "I want my dad to like the person I'm with."

"I feel the same way about my mom," Her approval meant everything to him. "You totally won her over, by the way."

"Is that hard to do?"

"For a potential love interest or whatever, yeah," Juice's sister-in-law, Roxanne, had jumped through all kind of hoops for his mom before marrying Ray Jr. "You've accomplished in one day what it has taken others over a decade to do."

"All I did was tell her the truth about who I am," Stiles admitted, caressing the top of Juice's hand with his thumb. "And that I cared about you, that I...that I would take care of you for her."

"That was the way to go with her."

"I wasn't try to win her over, I was just being honest so she'd let you stay."

"I know," Juice couldn't be more grateful. "Thank you for that."

"If you had left, we never would have gotten the chance to explore...this," Stiles motioned between them. "Or, well, we would have, but probably not until you turned eighteen and could leave Queens without her permission."

"If she had taken me back, I probably would have runaway again," That was the best-case scenario, the worst involving a relapse and/or drug overdose. "With any luck I would have found my way back here."

"If you hadn't, I would have ended up your doorstep during holiday break," Stiles claimed. "I've gotten used to having you around. I don't think I could go more than a few weeks without seeing you."

"I changed my mind about something, I wanted to talk to you about it," Juice swallowed thickly, feeling the palms of his hands begin to sweat. "We said yesterday that we wanted to wait to do anything, but after thinking on it for a while--"

"Twenty-four hours, give or take."

"I don't want to wait, if you're ready," Juice decided, inclining his head toward Stiles. "We've both been through hell and life is short and--"

“And we should go out together. On and a date,” Stiles suggested, licking his lips. “Right? That’s what people do when they like each other. I, um, I’ve never done it, but we should do it.”

"Y-Yeah. We, uh, we can do dinner and a movie ," They couldn't go wrong with a classic combination. "Maybe make out in the Jeep afterward at some lovers lane, before we narrowly avoid missing curfew, and share a goodnight kiss on the front porch where your dad will catch us and threaten me with a gun or a broom or whatever’s handy."

“Dinner and a movie, lovers lane, porch kiss before curfew, and my dad chasing you off with some kind of weapon... That is all very cheesy teen rom-com,” Stiles snorted, eyes lit up with amusement. “You've never been on a real date either, have you?"

"Not exactly,” The closest he had gotten to a date was sharing a beer and a joint with someone at a party. “But I've seen them in movies and TV shows."

"So we've reached an area where neither of us having any actual experience."

"Seems that way, yeah."

"You know, I'd say we don't have to wait until our date to make out, but..."

"It's a little weird with my mom across the hall, Gemma and your dad two doors down, and your brother in the living room."

"So weird."


	10. just walk on down this road with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Warnings: Mentions of past prostitution and drug abuse.  
> Chapter title comes from: [Never Be Ready by Mat Kearney](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3JRdOOt4WQ)  
> Gif sets: [Big Picture](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/188146475787/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-big-picture-you-have), [Opinion](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/187899651356/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-opinion-ive-been), [Bad Decision Ahead](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/188215524471/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-bad-decision), [Good Thing](https://stilinski-ortiz-dolan.tumblr.com/post/188092535081/son-shine-verse-au-fic-scene-good-thing-you-think)
> 
> *Set a few months after the previous chapter.

The sun cascaded through the curtains, bathing the room in natural light and rousing Juice from a restful night's sleep. There were worst ways to be woken up, he supposed, skimming his fingertips over the exposed skin of Stiles chest, feeling it rise and fall with every breath he took. Stiles hands found their way to Juice's hair, carding his nails through the dark matted strands.

"Thinking about shaving it," He mumbled, leaning into the other boy's touch. "Maybe a mohawk or a faux-hawk, whatever."

"Hmm," Stiles hummed, stroking his scalp. "That'd look good."

"Maybe get a couple tattoos on each side," Juice mused through a yawn. "Be badass."

"Mm-hmm," Stiles agreed, shifting under Juice's weight. "I rocked the buzz cut for awhile. Made me look prepubescent."

"I know, I've seen the pictures," Juice chuckled, staring up at Stiles through his lashes. "I like you with a full head of hair."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Juice smiled, thrumming the raised patch of skin on Stiles side. "You told your dad yet?"

"About my hair?"

"No."

"About my bullet wound?" Stiles placed his hand over Juice's, gently urging him away from the scar. "I don't think that's something he will ever forget."

"About school," Juice hadn't wanted to bring it up, but graduation was just a night away. "Did you tell him you heard back from the last university?"

"Did I tell him I got another rejection letter? Yes," Stiles pursed his lips. "He was painfully supportive."

"He just wants you to know that it's okay, that's he's not mad about it," Juice knew for a fact that John was pissed about it, but his anger wasn't directed at Stiles. "We all know it's not your fault."

"I don't know why I'm upset about it. I knew I was never going to get in," Stiles muttered, glaring up at the ceiling. "An honest or well thought-out admissions essay wasn't going to pretty up my history enough for any of them to want me at their schools."

“Stiles…”

"Did you tell your mom that you did get in?" Stiles asked, his frown replaced by a bright smile as he boasted Juice's accomplishment. "MIT, Juice. That's a big deal."

"If I tell her I got in, I'll have to tell her I'm not going," He couldn't disappoint his mom like that. "She'll try not to make me feel guilty about it, but I'll feel guilty anyway."

"Why don't you want to go?"

"I can't afford to, for one."

"There are student loans."

"So I can be in debt the rest of my life? No thanks," He'd prefer to avoid crippling debt if he could help it. "There are a ton of kids who really deserve to be there, who could use that education to change the world or something. I don't want to take a spot from one of them."

"You deserve to be there," Stiles insisted, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "You could use that education to change the world, even if it's just yours."

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do if you don’t go to college?” Juice questioned, trying to bring the conversation back around. “I mean, you can still go. You can go to community college for a year or two, rack up some credits, and then transfer to a university.”

“I was thinking about enlisting in the military,” Stiles mentioned casually, as if weren’t a life-altering decision. “Follow in my dad and Grandpa’s footsteps, you know.”

“Stiles, I say this with love: you’d never pass the psych eval,” That was just one of the reasons the military would be a remarkably bad idea, in Juice’s opinion. “And your problems with authority figures might make taking orders from a commanding officer difficult.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

* * *

 

Jax tried to visit Opie regularly since he'd been locked up, but it wasn't always easy to find the time to slip away for a trip to Stockton. He and the rest of the guys had made dozens upon dozens of trips over the last five years, but in the months since Clay had died, that number had dwindled considerably.

"I'm sorry, man," Jax apologized, wishing he had a worthwhile excuse. "It's just all this club shit, you know?"

"I get it," Opie nodded, fingers twitching on the metal tabletop. "How is everything? Is it starting to settle down?"

"Somewhat, yeah," There had been a bit of an uproar amongst the other charters when SAMCRO proposed their plan to get out of the gun business, but they’d come around eventually, and those who didn't were shown the door. "Getting shit done has been a slow process."

"It's still gettin' done," Opie noted, a pleased smile on his face. "That's good, Jax. You're doing good."

"Got no choice in that, little brother's been riding my ass about every little thing since I started wearing the president’s patch," Jax grumbled, shaking his head. "He gave me a set of six huge three ring binders filled with guidelines, rule amendments, and step by step instructions on how to get the club from point A to point B."

"Just six?"

"He's spent a long weekend with every charter within driving distance, handed them a similar set of binders with shit regarding their specific charters," Jax had gotten an earful of amused and belligerent phone calls from the handful of charters located in California and a few in Oregon. "I'm pretty sure he's planning to hit up every other charter we've got during his and Juice's little road trip."

"Maybe he should be wearing the president's patch," Opie joked, grinning fondly at their brother's antics. "You're going to give him some kind of title before he goes on the road, right? The clubs out east don't know him personally. He rolls up and tries to micromanage them the way he does things out here..."

"Yeah, I know," It would end bloody for everyone involved. "Piney and I talked it over with the guys, and even if he doesn't want to be a Son, he pretty much is already, and he's more than paid his dues. We're patching him to the nomad charter while he and Juice are on the road."

"That mean you'll have Happy tailing him the whole time?"

"Yep," There was no way in hell Jax was letting his brother take a cross-country trip without protection. "And, hey, you don't have to worry about Donna and the kids. I know Stiles usually helps her out with them over the summer, but we've got it covered."

"Actually, I've got it covered," Opie announced, sitting up a little straighter. "Met with the parole board about a week ago. Didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure, but..."

"You're getting out?" That was, by far, the best news Jax had heard in goddamn long time. "You're coming home? When? Does Donna know? Does your dad know?"

"I told Dad and Donna, I asked them to let me tell you," Opie replied, glancing around the visitation room, knowing it was the last time they would have to meet there. "I get out next week."

"Fuck, Ope," Jax felt the weight he'd been carrying for the last five years lift off his shoulders. "Fuck. That's...fuck."

"I know, Jax."

"Everything's coming together man. Clay's dead. Unser’s long gone. The club's out of guns—that’s going to help put Donna at ease after this jail business." Shit was certainly looking up. "It's going to be you and me at the head of the table, just like it was always supposed to be."

* * *

 

Juice actually liked Charming High School, in fact he almost enjoyed it at times. Sure, it was kind of small and didn't have money in its budget for new anything, but the other kids were cool, there were still a few teachers who thought they could make a difference, and the ones that didn't were equal opportunity assholes instead of pick-and-choosers. It provided a high school experience that was as close to normal as Juice could have ever hoped to get. Donna -- Mrs. Winston, during school hours -- was a big part of that.

In Donna's classroom, there was a coffee cup on her desk that had the words _'Small but mighty'_ stenciled on the side, which felt like an apt description of her. She was the kind of teacher who engaged with her students, who made lessons fun and meaningful. She also didn't take any shit, from anyone, not her students or the other staff, she'd even shut Juice and Stiles down on more than one occasion for getting too rowdy or not paying enough attention during her class.

Juice liked Donna, she reminded him of his sisters-- in a good way. He'd gotten to know her a lot better since the move to Charming, both in and out of school. She was no longer Stiles sister-in-law, but Juice's friend and his favorite teacher. However, despite the growing bond between them, he was still nervous about being called into a private meeting with her at school.

"I appreciate you coming in to help me pack things up," Donna said gratefully, transferring the contents of her desk into a plastic tub. "I teach classes at the community college over the summer. I don't want to leave all my stuff here for whatever summer school teacher gets the classroom."

"Maybe this is just me being me, but I kind of got the feeling that this whole pack up thing was just a cover," For his presence there anyway. "I thought you wanted to get me alone to talk to me about something."

"You picked up on that, did you?" Donna smirked. "The guidance counselor and I had a meeting about you recently."

"Why?" Graduation day was tomorrow, Juice would no longer be any of their concern. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem to have any plans for after high school, beyond your road trip with Stiles," Donna mentioned, closing the lid on the storage tub. "Most of your classmates have some kind of idea what they're going to do. College, work, a branch of the military, the peace corp. _**Something**_. You haven't expressed any interest in anything, which is concerning."

"Have you guys been chatting about Stiles too?" Juice was not the only one without a clear outlook of the future, and seeing that he and Stiles were packaged as a set these days, if someone were talking about one of them, they were probably talking about the both of them. "'Cause he doesn't have any plans beyond this road trip either."

"Stiles has skipped every appointment he's had with the guidance counselor," Donna admitted with a frustrated sigh. "I'll tag him later, but for now I want to talk about you."

"Awesome." He loved being singled out by the administration. "I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Just give me an idea so I know that you're at least thinking about it, that you’ve thought about how you see your future, what you want it to look like, what you want it to be," Donna prompted him. "I mean, what does it look like? What do you want, Juan Carlos?"

"Uh...lunch," If they were talking about the very near future. "Maybe a nap with Stiles later."

"Don't be a smartass," Donna scolded him. "Out of your life. What do you want out of your life? Big picture?"

"I don't know," He didn't want to say he'd never thought about it, even if it were the truth. "Does it matter?"

"You're goddamn right it matters. This is the rest of your life we're talking about," Donna snapped, scowling at him. "Let's keep it simple. When you were a little kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Taller."

"Juan Carlos."

"I don't know. Okay? I don't remember," It had been a really long time since he wanted to be anything. "I was always good with computers, so I guess maybe something with those at some point, but I've kind of screwed the pooch on that."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"You know how many cyber crimes I have on my sheet?"

"You know how many security companies hire hackers to find holes in their software?" Donna retorted, having come prepared to counter any argument Juice thought to make. "For some people, a lot of people, an arrest record could destroy their job prospects, could hinder any attempts they make at a real future, but you are young, you still have choices."

"I've always had choices," He had chosen to snort coke and shoot heroin. He had chosen to commit every offense listed on his arrest record. "Look, there are a lot of kids who have been working their whole lives for a chance to go to MIT or some other college. I haven't. I never thought about university as something for me; it was always just a place for my brothers and sisters to waste their time."

"You don't really believe that."

"Well, not anymore," His siblings had taken that education, their degrees, and were making something of themselves. "I get it now, I do, but I...I didn't then. They worked like hell for years to earn their places. I-I haven't, not for this."

"Do you want it?"

"Do I want what?"

"Do you want to go to MIT?" Donna asked simply, no bullshit, just straight to the point. "I'm not asking if you will go, just if you want to."

"I..." He had, once or twice, on those late nights when he couldn't sleep and Stiles was snoring softly at his side, he’d thought about what it would be like to be there, to do that, to be someone his family could be proud of, that he could be proud of. "Y-Yeah. Yes, but I--"

"No buts."

"I can't go."

"You can. You should. You have options, Juan Carlos. You have skills than can open amazing doors for you," She gestured to the computer on her desk. "Don't squander the opportunities you're given because you think you don't deserve them."

"We're veering dangerously into _'After School Special'_ territory," Juice quipped, sobering when the lighthearted laugh he was expecting in return never sounded. "Is this the part where you tell me about the opportunities you missed out on by staying in Charming?"

"No, it's the part where I tell you I'll kick your ass if you don't put that brain of yours to good use," Donna threatened, hands on her hips. "You don't have to decide right this second. You don't even have to decide on MIT. You just have to think about the future you want and how you're going to get it."

"Oh yeah, we are neck deep in _'After School Special'_ territory now."

"Do you want weekend detention?"

"You can't give me weekend detention, I graduate _**tomorrow**_."

"Try me."

* * *

 

John's job at the police academy was boring, lacked excitement, and grew increasingly repetitive with every day that passed. Yes, it afforded him certain privileges that previous career didn't, more time at home with the kids, set hours, no one trying to kill him, but, still, there was something missing.

"Why don't you just quit?" Gemma questioned over lunch early in the afternoon. "You don't like it. It's sucking the life right out of you."

"I have two kids to support," He didn't have the luxury of just walking away. "I've got bills."

"The kids are out of the house this weekend," Gemma reminded him. "They're using their own money to pay for their road trip."

"They have to come home eventually," That’s what kids did when they left home, right? "They’ll come back. Right? They're coming back?"

"They will come back, I promise," Gemma assured him, covering his hand with hers. "Empty nest syndrome is going to be hell for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably," He was dreading the silence that was sure to befall the house once the boys were gone. "Although, I'm not going to miss the boys playing musical beds in the middle of the night."

"At least they're not playing musical houses, like we are," Gemma muttered, dipping a French fry in the ketchup. "Speaking of houses, I, um, I'm putting mine and Clay's up for sale."

"Really?" John was aware that she’d been thinking about it since Clay’s funeral, but they had never discussed it in great length. "You sure that's what you want to do?"

"It's time," Gemma decided, a considering look on her face. "I can't sleep when I'm there, that's why I always end up at your house."

"You know you're always welcome," He had grown comfortable having her around more often than not. "But it can't be, um, it can't be...ours. It can't be our house, our... Not yet."

"Relax, Johnny. I'm not trying to move in with you," Gemma snorted, snacking on her fries. "We agreed if we were going to do this, we were going to do it a certain way."

"We did," It had been a very long and painful conversation brought upon by their children constantly offering up their opinions on what they believed John and Gemma were doing with each other, and in the end, it was a conversation they needed to have to get where they were. "It's the right way to do it. It was too soon before, after Clay. That's why the kids were so up in arms about it."

"That's not the reason they were upset about us," Gemma clucked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Have you talked to Stiles about it yet?"

"Tonight," The cowardice part of him wanted to wait until the weekend, until the morning Stiles and Juice were to leave on their road trip. "I'm not expecting him to suddenly have changed his opinion about it over the last few months, but I think if we have an honest conversation instead of just fighting about it, he'll come around."

"Well, if it helps, you can always tell yourself his bad mood is Jax's fault," Gemma commented. "'Cause some of it will be."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"Jax has what he thinks is two pieces of good news for Stiles."

"Stiles isn't going to think it's good news?"

"He's going to be over the moon about one piece of news," Gemma acknowledged, a smile tugging at her lips. "The other piece, not so much."

"Great."

“Now, about that job of yours….”

* * *

 

Stiles and Jax were perfectly balanced as brothers, truly. Stiles had a tendency to over think things while Jax rarely if ever thought things thought at all, Jax acted on emotion, Stiles on rationality, Jax had a God complex, Stiles an inferiority complex, so on and so forth. They basically evened each other out, personality wise, and because of that, Stiles always thought he knew what to expect with his brother. Well, as it turned out, he was wrong.

"Wendy and I are getting married."

So, so incredibly wrong.

"No."

"Yeah," Jax nodded, grinning from ear-to-ear. "We are."

"No," Stiles gripped his brother's shoulders firmly enough, it seemed, to make the other man wince. "You're really not."

"Okay, I get it if you're not totally on board with it," Jax glared, shrugging Stiles hands off him. "But I wasn't asking for your opinion, so..."

"Oh, I wasn't giving you my opinion." Stiles had given his brother plenty of 'opinions' on his relationship with Wendy, this was not one of them. "You should know me better than that."

"Well, you better not have been giving me an order," Jax crossed his arms over his chest. " _ **You**_ should know better than that."

"I've been giving you orders my whole life, Jackson," Stiles snorted derisively. "Why would I stop now?"

"Because now you're old enough for me to kick your ass," Jax threatened, which might've been frightening if Stiles didn't, you know, know him. "Just try me, little brother."

"Oh, please," Stiles tittered, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That's almost as adorable as you thinking you're marrying Wendy."

"Stiles," Jax placed his hands flat on the bar, leaning over it to incline his face toward his brother's. "This is happening whether you like it or not."

"No, it's not," Stiles patted his brother on the head condescendingly. "Would you like me to tell you why?"

"No."

"The two of you are not compatible," Stiles had done extensive research on the subject after observing their pitiful excuse for a relationship, beginning the first night Wendy sauntered into the clubhouse. "There is a reason you have to be drunk and she has to be high for you to spend any real time together."

"That's bullshit," Jax spit at him. "And Wendy's clean."

"I hope she can stay that way," His feelings about her aside, he wanted to believe she was strong enough to win a fight with that particular demon. "But that doesn't change the fact that you two don't work."

"Gemma thinks we can," Jax declared confidently. "The whole marriage thing was her idea. She's been dropping hints about it for weeks."

"Well, if you were looking for a gigantic warning sign reading _**BAD DECISION AHEAD**_ , that was it!" Stiles could smack his brother for not seeing the con being played on him. "Gemma hates other women! The only reason she would encourage you to marry one is if she was getting something out of this-- _**oh my god**_! You knocked up Wendy!"

"No, I didn't," Jax blanched, face paling. "I-I-I mean, I d-don't think I did."

"Condoms, Jax! Condoms! Condoms! Condoms!" Stiles whacked his brother upside the head as hard as he could. "We've talked about this!"

"I do use condoms!" Jax shouted, pushing Stiles away before he could land another blow. "I use them. I do. You know, most of the time."

"Most of the time," And there it was, stupidity in its purest form. "I cannot with you today. I cannot. I refuse. I am going home."

* * *

 

There was something to be said about a hard day’s work, of putting your blood and sweat into make a living, and Teller-Morrow Garage was the perfect provider of that in Juice's world. Being a mechanic was something Juice could see himself doing for the rest of his life, but he didn't know if it was what he _**wanted**_ to do. If Donna hadn't cornered him with talk about all the opportunities at his disposal, he wouldn't be weighing want vs. reality.

"Hit a nerve, didn't she?" Piney asked with a snicker. "Yeah, Donna said she was going to have that talk with you today."

"I don't know why she's being so uptight about this," He grunted, banging a wrench against the engine block. "I got a good thing going here. I don't need MIT."

"Well, she didn't ask what you needed, did she?" Piney questioned, sitting on a metal chair by the office door. "She asked you what you wanted."

"I'm eighteen. I want sex, sleep, and food," Juice huffed, continuing to tinker under the hood of the car. "End of list."

"Juan Carlos," Shit, if Piney was using his legal name, he was really in trouble. "Come on. This is important."

"Well, what did you want when you were my age?" Juice asked, glancing over his shoulder at the older man. "Was being an outlaw and mechanic what you dreamed of being when you were a little kid?"

"I wanted to be a carpenter," Piney offered Juice a small glimpse into his past. "I was my uncle's apprentice after I graduated high school."

"So what happened?"

"Vietnam," Piney answered, bowing his head. "Things were different then. People didn't agree with the war or support anyone who fought in it, and they made sure we knew it when we came home."

"I'm sorry," He'd learned about the Vietnam War in school, but his relatives who had been drafted into it never spoke of it.

"I was injured on my first tour, didn't have to go back. I was only home a few weeks before I realized I couldn't stay. Don't get me wrong, Charming didn't turn on me or anything, but no one ever looked at me the same way, it's like they forgot who I was," Piney hunched his shoulders, scrubbing a hand over his neck. "So I left. Hobo’d around for a few months before landing in Vegas."

"Vegas?" Juice had always found Piney to be a bit anti-social, couldn't imagine him in such a lively place as Las Vegas. "What did you do there? Deal cards? Bartend? Work the door at a club? I could totally picture you as a bouncer in your younger years."

"I did work part time as a bouncer at a strip club," Piney confirmed with a weary smile. "That's how I met Opie's mother, my wife Mary. She was a dancer there."

"Huh."

"And I worked the strip for a few years while I was there," Piney mentioned, not an ounce of shame in his tone. "The two skills I had, wood whittling and killing people were pretty much useless to me unless I wanted to join the mob or something. The only thing I had to sell that could make me any real money was myself."

"O-Oh," Juice faltered, stilling his movements under the hood of the car. "I, um..."

"You think you're the only one who's ever sucked dick to get by?" Piney quirked a brow. "I'm not going to apologize for it. It's something I had to do. It's something you had to do."

"Yeah," Juice tried not to think about that part of his life, only bringing it up when his relationship with Stiles started getting physical and they both decided he needed to get tested for STDs at the clinic before things went too far. "I didn't like it, you know, but it wasn't the worst part of my life, if that makes sense."

"It does," Piney inhaled a deep breath, gazing out the parking lot. "Look, Juan Carlos, almost everyone here was something they didn't want to be before they got here. We all had dreams of being something else. I was supposed to be a carpenter. Tig said once that as a kid he wanted to be a veterinarian-- he likes animals, you know. And Chibs, well, seminary school was in his future before his life got off track."

"Chibs was going to be priest? That's, um, that's..." Fucking hot, if Juice were being honest. "That's a far cry from outlaw."

"This club, this garage was the light at the end of the dark tunnel for us. It has given us more than we were ever going to get for ourselves," Piney acknowledged, fingers grazing the **'Redwood Original'** patch on his kutte. "You like it here, I can see that, but the work doesn't interest you, it's just something to do. That's okay, for now. You're just a kid, still figuring things out."

"That's thing, I am still figuring it out," He was in a better place than he’d once been, sure, but he still wasn't confident enough in his future to plan for it. "I don't know what I want to do with the rest of my life."

"So go to school," Piney suggested. "Try some new things. Challenge yourself."

"MIT is really far away from this," Juice hadn't done a lot of research on the school, but he knew it was in Massachusetts which was a hell of a long ways away from California. "I...I found things here. Calm. I-I've found a calm here that I never had in Queens."

"You can take your calm with you," Piney said with a knowing grin on his face. "He'll follow you, you won't even have to ask."

* * *

 

Stiles wasn't stupid or obtuse. He had a pretty good read on people, could differentiate between the shades of grey each one lived in. He could sense when someone was keeping something from him, knew when to wait them out and when to push them to talk.

His dad wasn't usually a person who skirted around topics. He was a straight shooter who attacked tough subjects head-on. Lately, though, he'd been holding something back, opening his mouth to speak then shutting it without a word, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say or how to say it. The hesitation unnerved Stiles to the point where when his father finally sat him down to talk, he sort of went off.

"Will you please tell me what in the hell is going on?" Stiles was sick and tired of being kept in the dark about whatever his father had been struggling to tell him. "Do I need to do the ‘ _if you tell me the truth, you won't get in trouble'_ spiel for you? 'Cause I'll say it, but we'll both know it's a lie."

"There is a conversation we need to have," His father admitted, passing him a warm mug. "You're not going to like it. I think you are going to be very upset, but I want you to keep an open mind anyway. Can you do that for me?"

"I can try."

"I know you're not happy about Gemma and I spending time together," His dad broached the particularly touchy subject cautiously. "But she and I have talked about it a lot over the last several months, and we've decided to make a real go of things."

" _'Make a real go of things'_ ," Stiles repeated the words, hoping they'd make more sense coming from his own mouth than they had his father’s. "What, like dating?"

"Yes," The older man nodded, settling onto the sofa beside Stiles. "We want to take things slow, see how it goes before moving on to something more serious. We wanted to be upfront about it with you, because--"

"Because you know I'd tell you it was a bad idea," Stiles thought nothing could top his brother's extraordinarily dim-witted engagement announcement earlier, but somehow his father managed to prove him wrong. "We hate her, Dad. S-She's...she's a witch. W-Why would you want to be with someone like her?"

"I don't hate her," His father claimed, brows knitted together in concern. "I don't think you do either."

"I do," His feelings for her had been etched into stone since the day she pulled him aside at his mother's wake to tell him not to be sad, because she was his real mother. "S-S-Sh-She abandon me. S-She tried to ruin Mom's memory. She's...she's evil."

"Stiles, I'm not going to pretend like she's always been a good person or that she hasn't done us wrong, because she has," His dad didn't try to dress up their history with the woman, didn't erase the damage she had done to them. "But people can change."

"Not her."

"You have every right to feel how you feel about her," His dad acknowledged, careful not to write off Stiles feelings. "I understand how you feel, I do--"

"If you understood, we wouldn't be having this conversation!" Stiles slammed his cup down on the coffee table. "I-I get that you're ready to start dating again. Okay? I get it. I'm okay with it. But not her. Anyone but her. S-She's not a good person, Dad. She's not right for you."

"Would anyone be but Mom?" His dad asked thoughtfully, a sympathetic, if not pitying expression on his face. "No one can replace your mother, Stiles, not to either of us. I'm not looking for a new wife or a new mother for you."

"What are you doing?" Besides losing his damn mind. "What would possess you to date Gemma, of all people?"

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone," His dad confessed, loneliness sinking into his tone. "Gemma and I have both had the great loves of our lives, Claudia and JT. We are never going to find that again and we've accepted that. We just want...companionship."

"Why her?" Stiles couldn't understand, couldn't process any of it without a reason. "Just tell me why, Dad. Why her?"

“I don’t know, Stiles. There’s something there, something between us," His dad tried to explain, tried to put his thoughts and feelings into words to help Stiles understand. "Maybe it’s nothing but nostalgia, a shared past, but maybe it’s something. Maybe it’s something new, a future. I don’t know what it is or how to explain it, Stiles. I just want a chance to explore it.”

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to stand in the way.” Stiles wasn't sure he could ever be okay with it, but he could learn to live with it, if it was what his father truly wanted. "Guess that explains why you haven't been wearing your wedding ring."

"Oh," He father tensed, covering the tan-line encircling his ring finger. "I didn't think you'd..."

"Noticed? Yeah, a few weeks ago," He hadn't wanted to mention it, to start a conversation like the one they were having. "I knew you'd...eventually, but I don't know."

"We should have talked about it--"

"You don't need my permission to move on with your life, Dad," Stiles never wanted or expected his father to remain locked in the mourning period for the rest of his days. "And if...if Gemma is who you want to move on with...okay. I just... I want you to be happy. If you can be happy with her, then I'll be okay with this."

"I appreciate that, Stiles."

* * *

 

Juice wasn't reliant on his family, not in the same way Stiles was with his dad. He and his mother had slowly begun to piece their relationship back together after her visit, but there was still a significant amount of distance. They scheduled their talks, spoke on the phone at the same time on the same days every week, Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays at 7pm. Seeing the number for her home phone pop up on his caller-ID at 6pm on a Thursday was a little disconcerting.

"Shit," Juice brought the phone to his ear. "Mama? Is everything okay?"

 _"Mom wasn't sure if you had school today, asked me to call you when you got off work,"_ His eldest brother‘s gruff drawl filtered over the line. _"Her flight got delayed, bad weather or something during a layover. That's why she's not there yet."_

"Oh," Juice said dumbly, not really registering the words so much as the voice speaking them. "Ray?"

_"Yeah."_

"Oh," Juice hadn't spoken to his brother, any of his siblings really, since he'd left home. "Um, t-thanks for calling, for, uh, for letting me know."

_"Yeah, sure."_

"H-How are you?" It would be easy for Juice to say his goodbyes and end the call, but part of him yearned for something, any kind of connection with the rest of his family back home. "How is everyone?"

_"We're good. Keeping busy. You know how it is."_

"Yeah."

_"Mom said you were good when she saw you. Said you looked healthy."_

"I'm trying to be, Ray," He wasn't making promises, not this time, not after he'd broken so many before. "All I can say is...I'm trying."

_"All you can do, I guess."_

"Yeah," His sobriety, his mental health, it was all day-to-day.

_"So, you're graduating high school."_

"Yeah, tomorrow," That was the whole reason their mother was making another trip out there. "No big deal."

_"I'm proud of you."_

"You are?" Juice perked up, he'd never heard those words or any other kind of praise from his brother. "I mean, uh--"

_"Thought the next time Mom sat us all down to talk about you, it'd be to tell us you'd overdosed again. Instead, she told us you finally managed to get your shit together."_

"Didn't do it alone. I had help, a lot of it," The Stilinskis, the club, they had all stayed on him without acting like that's what they were doing, making sure he didn't step too far over a certain line. "There are people here, um, they understand me, I guess. That helps."

_"Good. If that's what you needed, I'm glad you have it."_

"There's something else. Someone else," Juice wasn't sure how much his brother knew, how much his mother had shared when she returned to Queens. "His name’s Stiles. I-I want you to meet him. I want all of you to meet him. I want you guys to get to know him."

_"Really?"_

"Yeah," It came as a surprise to him too, if anyone had asked him a few months prior if he ever thought Stiles interacting with his siblings would be a good idea, he would have said _**fuck no**_. "I-I lov--… H-He's—I don’t know how to say it. He’s my...he's my peace, I guess. He makes me feel…at peace. Peaceful."

_"Your peace, okay."_

"Yeah," He knew it didn't make a lot of sense, probably sounded like some hippy shit, but it was how he felt. "I actually think you're going to like him."

_"You've never brought someone to meet us before."_

"Never had any one worth introducing to you till now."

_"You going to stick around for awhile when you come home?"_

"I don't know," He and Stiles had no plans to work from any sort of schedule while they were away. They were playing everything by ear. "A couple days, at least, depending on how things go."

_"I miss you, kid."_

"I..." Juice faltered, taken aback by the sudden declaration. "I miss you too."

* * *

 

Stiles and Gemma's relationship was forged on two things, abandonment and honesty. She had pushed him out of her life as soon as he'd left her womb, refusing to acknowledge him as hers for reasons he wasn't sure he wanted to know or understand. The being said, she had never outright lied about who she was to him, he had never gone to her as a small child to ask if she was his mother, so she never had to deny the allegation. She had dropped the truth bomb on him without warning at the worst possible time, but it was the truth, no matter how much he had wished it to be a lie.

That was the thing about them, for two people who could list lying under the 'special skills' section on their résumés, the one person they couldn't lie to was each other. It wasn't some weird biological imperative, a bond between mother and son that forced them to be honest with one another, it was about inflicting pain. Their truths were harsh, brutal, and ugly, they snarled them at each other in a blunt fashion, hoping for an explosive reaction that would prove they were each right about whatever they thought was wrong about the other.

That wasn't to say they couldn't be civil, they could, it just didn't come as easily. Civil between them was gritted teeth, tense shoulders, and carefully chosen words. It was a behavior developed specifically to soothe ruffled feathers and keep the peace for the sake of their shared family.

"Let's get one thing straight first and foremost," Stiles began, hands balled into fists hidden beneath the table. "If you're playing some kind of game with my dad, it needs to stop right the hell now."

"No games, baby," Gemma responded, holding his gaze. "It is what it is."

"That better be the truth," This, his father, it wasn't something to be lied about, not now. "Because I'm thinking of letting you spend more time with him."

"Letting me?"

"We both know he'd end things with you in a heartbeat if he believed I was upset over your...budding relationship," He grimaced, still not anywhere near comfortable with the idea. "He thinks there's something between you, something real. He thinks you feel the same way."

"I do," Gemma said in a way that made Stiles want to believe her. "There's something there. We just want to see where it goes."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Gemma's eyes widened. "You sick or something?"

"Just don't hurt him. Okay?" Stiles couldn't stand it if his dad got hurt by anyone, let alone her. "Mom's death, watching her slowly lose her mind, that destroyed him."

"I know, baby," She made an aborted movement with her, like she wanted to reach out to him, but knew the gesture wouldn't be well received.

"He deserves to be happy, to be with someone who makes him happy," It wasn't for Stiles to decide who that person was. "If that's you, I can accept it. I can _**try**_ to accept it."

"Guess that's the best I can hope for with you," Gemma murmured softly. "I do care about him, Stiles. I could even love him one day."

"Well, you should. He's a real loveable guy," Stiles sniffled, resisting the urge to fidget with something, anything, to quell his anxiety. "He's not like Clay and JT, you know. He can't be them for you. He can't be like them. He's _**good**_ , Gem. He's good."

"I don't want him to be like them."

"What do you want?"

"Him."

* * *

 

They'd been meeting in secret for weeks, pouring over contingency plans and what if scenarios. They had debated, they had argued, they had talked each other in circles until they were blue in the face. Some would call it over-reaction, over-protection, they called it necessary.

It started out as a simple discussion over lunch one day. They had all taken a moment to voice their concerns over the disappearing act Stiles and Juice wanted to play once they were finished with high school. They'd all agreed it would be good for the boys to get away for awhile, but dangerous for them to go alone for an undisclosed amount of time.

"The kids can take care of themselves, no doubt," Tig started, taking a pull off his beer. "But that's in Charming. Stiles pulls the kind of shit he does here in the real world, he's going to get his ass kicked."

"He pulls that kind of shit to one of our charters that don't know him too well..." Chibs whistled, teetering on his bar stool. "He's going to end up six feet under."

"Stiles will be wearing the patch when he visits other charters," Jax had gotten the last vote he needed to make it a unanimous decision during his visit with Opie. "He's a nomad now, and he won't be riding alone, Happy's going out with them."

"Do they know this?" Piney asked, a look on his face that suggested he already knew the answer. "Does Stiles know he's now a member of the Sons of Anarchy, top rockers and all?"

"Of course not," Jax’s little brother had never wanted the patch, had stuck up his nose at any mention of it in the past. "I'm going to tell him just before they leave."

"Pussy."

"Obviously, he's going to know about Happy," Jax's brother had been trained to spot a follow car. "I'll give him an ultimatum to get him on board with that one. It's either Happy or the entire nomad charter. He'll choose Happy."

"We worried about Juice showing Stiles around his old stomping grounds?" Tig questioned, cocking his head to the side. "He falls back in bad habits, he could drag little brother down with him."

"Juicy ain't the same lad he was when he showed up here," Chibs said confidently. "He'll be all right going back east for spell. If anything, Stiles being there'll help him stay on the straight and narrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jax agreed with a nod. "So, Happy's going to make sure they stay as close to our charters or charters of our allies as possible through this whole trip, just in case they run into trouble."

"They are the trouble," Happy deadpanned, dropping onto a bar stool beside the rest of the group. "Sorry I'm late, boys. Traffic was a bitch."

"No problem, bro," Jax clapped the other man on the back. "Thanks for doing this."

"You sure you can handle these kids, man?" Tig asked, a twisted grin playing on his lips. "You said it, they're trouble."

"I'm worse trouble." Happy tutted, a smug smirk spread across his mouth. "I got it."

"You're a scary motherfucker, Hap, but Stiles still sees you as the guy who’d bring him Legos and Hot Wheels every time he came around." It had tripped Jax out the first time Happy had shown up loaded with gifts for an, at the time, toddler Stiles, and proceeded to spend hours cross-legged on the floor showing the kid everything he could do with his new toys. "He doesn't see you as scary, that's going to work against you."

"Stiles and I understand each other," Happy asserted, not the least bit worried about having a handle on the situation. "It's the other kid I haven't spent much time with. Juice? Anything I need to know about him?

"He's been clean for six, seven months now. He should be fine. Shouldn't give you any trouble," Piney assured the other man. "But if you see him sneak out of his and Stiles motel room in the middle of the night or something, follow him, make sure he's not making a buy or something."

"The drugs are his biggest problem," They were the only problem Jax was aware of, and while the kid was clean, junkies had a habit of relapsing, and the kid was no stranger to that. "He slipped up a few months ago, after his mom visited. He only shot up a couple of times, but it set him back a little."

"We got him back on track, he's been clean ever since," Chibs chimed in, flicking ash from his cigarette into the tray on the bar. "He's a good lad."

"What about Stiles' batshit shit?" Happy asked with a tight frown. "He going cold turkey on the head-shrinking? I need to keep a close eye on him, make sure he doesn't go off the rails?"

"He and his shrink worked it out, he's going to do his sessions over the phone," Piney replied, having done a far more thorough vetting of Stiles and Juice's plans than Jax had, apparently. "They're good kids, Happy. They ain't stupid. They're not going to give you much grief."

"They're two teenage boys going on a road trip without proper adult supervision," Tig snickered. "Without Sheriff Daddy standing over their shoulders, I'm thinking those kids are going to get a little out of control."

"Wouldn't really be such a bad thing," Jax noted, wondering if the trip could present an opportunity for his brother to be a kid for a few months. "Those two are wound so tight all the damn time. The shit they've been through has aged them, you know. They haven't really... They need to have some fun -- I don't mean Juice's kind of fun, but...."

"They need to relax," Happy concluded, catching on to what Jax was saying. "Let loose a little."

"Within reason," Piney interjected, nudging the other man with his elbow. "You just gotta make sure they don't take things too far. Pull their asses out of the fire if they need pulling."

"Got it."

* * *

 

Juice had grown accustomed to Stiles moods throughout their time together. The carefree ones intoxicated him, made him feel like he was surrounded by goodness and light, and everything Father MacManus used to wax poetic about in his church sermons. The angry ones he could sense days before they hit, could practically see ‘em brewing beneath the surface, pumping through Stiles veins like hot acid boiling him from the inside out. The sad ones started with an faraway look, a lost expression that that made Juice wonder if one day he'd get so lost in his own mind he wouldn't able to find his way back. The manic ones came without much warning, slamming doors or wringing hands, sometimes both.

"My father wants to date Gemma, and I told him it was okay!" Stiles shouted, shoving the door closed with enough force to vibrate the rest of the room. "I gave him my approval, Juice! Why would I do that?"

"Because you're a good son," Juice responded obediently, folding up the maps he’d been studying on the desk and swiveling his chair around to give Stiles his full attention. "You want him to be happy."

"Happy with _ **her**_ ," Stiles scrunched up his face, disgust painting his features. "Every man in my life is stuck on stupid. Except you."

"Yeah, I heard about Jax's thing with Wendy," The news had been making its way around the garage while Juice worked. "I know you're not Wendy's biggest fan, but Jax is into her. She's into him. This is a good thing, Stiles."

"This is a train wreck."

"Well, that too," Juice was just glad that he and Stiles wouldn't be there to witness it. "But you can't just tell them that."

"Yeah, I know," Stiles sighed heavily. "You think I should try reverse psychology?"

"I think you should leave it alone, let it run its course naturally."

"That'll take too long," Stiles decided, flopping down onto the bed. "It wouldn't bother me so much if actually loved her."

"He thinks he loves her," And, really, who were they to say he didn't? "That's enough for him, it's gotta be enough for you too."

"I hate being the mature one in mine and Jax's relationship," Stiles huffed, kicking off his shoes. "Okay. Enough Stilinski-Teller family drama. Tell me about your day. How was it?"

"Well, I talked to my oldest brother on the phone. It went better than expected," It was downright pleasant compared to the hostile and dismissive conversations they often had when Juice had lived at home. "Oh, and Donna told me I needed to figure out what I wanted to do with rest of my life."

“We’re eighteen," Stiles scowled. "How the hell are we supposed to know that?”

"Man, I've got no clue," Juice chuckled mirthlessly, moving to join Stiles on the bed. “I was thinking maybe we just try some new things on this trip, get some perspective or something."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, turning on his side to curl his body around Juice's. "Work odd jobs so we don't run out of money, stop at all those weird road side attractions just ‘cause."

"Stay off the main highways," Major roadways were boring, made any kind of trip dull as dirt. "We've got that camping gear in the back of the Jeep. We don't even have to stop at motels; we can just pull off somewhere and sleep under the stars."

"We could sleep," Stiles hummed, licking his lips. "We could also...not sleep."

"It's going to be a little hard to do much with our babysitter nearby," Juice was never one for voyeurism. "You do know Jax is making Happy go with us, right?"

"I've heard that rumor," Stiles levered himself up to lean against Juice's side, staring down at him. "It won't be hard to lose him."

"It kind of sucks that we have to lose him," Juice murmured, reaching out to stroke his hand through Stiles hair. "We planned this trip for us. I was really looking forward to that."

"So was I," Stiles mumbled, wrapping his fingers around Juice's wrist, feeling his pulse-point jump at the contact. "It still can be that way, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Juice cupped the back of Stiles neck, guiding him down until their noses were brushing together. "How?"

"What if we skipped our graduation tomorrow?" Stiles proposed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Juice's mouth. "We could leave tonight, after everyone's gone to bed."

"We could," It was tempting and plausible, all their stuff was ready to go, bags packed and stuffed in the closet, just waiting to be loaded into the Jeep. "But our parents are so excited about this, Stiles. My mom's coming in to town for it. Your dad has a surprise party planned for after the ceremony."

"I know it's selfish," Stiles wilted, burying his face in the crook of Juice's neck. "We don't even want to go to this ceremony. We're only doing it because they want us to."

"I know," It's not that they weren't proud of their achievements, graduating high school was a big deal, it's just they didn't feel the need to make some big splash about it in front of a ton of people. "You know, Donna can pick up our diplomas, give them to our parents. They can celebrate together, without us. We don't have to be there."

"We don't have to be there."

* * *

 

There was an envelope left on the kitchen table, ' _ **DON'T ME MAD** '_ scribbled across it. The letter tucked inside was written in two different yet equally messy scrawls, and addressed to no one in particular. The message left behind was meant to be read by family and friends, anyone who cared for the pair that had taken the time to put their thoughts in feelings into words.

 

> _We know once you find this, you're going to be royally pissed. So happy we're not there to see it. We don't mean to disappoint or anger any of you. While this is a decision we came to quickly, it’s not one we came to lightly. We know -- we hope -- once the shock wears off, you'll understand._
> 
> _We tried to tough it out, we really did. I mean, that's what we do, right? We push through our nerves and unease to do what needs to be done. It just felt a little silly for something as arbitrary as a graduation ceremony._
> 
> _We were going to stay. We were going to walk across that stage in our caps and gowns. We would have shook the principal’s hand and accepted the diplomas we rightfully earned. We would have listened to you cheer for us, and dutifully taken the pictures that would hang on the walls in the living room for a few years before they were stuffed into a rarely opened photo album. We would have done that for you, but we wouldn’t be able to relax on that stage, wearing those gowns, or taking those pictures, and you would have seen that and started to worry about us again, and we don't want that._
> 
> _You all have spent a lot of time reminding us of how far we've come these last few months. You call us strong and resilient. We never really believed you until now. We get it, or we're trying to._
> 
> _We don't need Happy to trail us across the country, keeping us out of trouble. We don't need to wear the reaper on our backs to be safe. We can do those things on our own, you taught us how. You spent a lifetime teaching us to be independent and capable, showing us how to stand on our own two feet and we feel confident that we can finally do that now._
> 
> _You asked us what we wanted out of life, out of our futures, and the truth is that we don't know, not yet. We don't even know where we're going. We don't know when we'll be back. We don't know who we'll be when we get back, but we know it'll be okay. We've got each other, and as corny as it sounds, that’s enough._
> 
> _We were scared to go, to leave you behind without a word for an unknown amount of time, some of us have never been separated for longer than a few days our entire lives. The thought of leaving for so long makes us ache, but what will get us through is knowing none of us will be alone. We all have someone to close to us to keep us calm and grounded. It's okay for us to go now, because we won't be leaving anyone on their own._
> 
> _We've left earlier than you would have liked, but we’re not disappearing. We'll call to check in once a day, text constantly to let you know we're all right, to get assurances that you are all right. We'll send postcards and trinkets from the road, letting you know where we've been and give you an idea of the direction we're heading._
> 
> _Try not to worry. Don’t let our absence keep you up at night. We've got this, just like we know you've got things handled back home._
> 
> _We love ~~you all~~ most of you.  
>  _
> 
> _Juice & Stiles_
> 
> _P.S.: If we come back and anyone is married -- the means you Jax -- we are going to have so many words, dude. So many._

 


End file.
